


Red Ink Rewrite

by A_Stressed_Cupcake, Only_Slightly_Obsessed (A_Stressed_Cupcake), Scattered_Irises



Series: Of Lace and Porcelain [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Choose Your Own Adventure, Chris-centric, Gen, Implied Mutilation, Multiple Endings, canon divergence of a fic to be precise, in some endings, this is a canon divergence of Of Lace And Porcelain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 55
Words: 30,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/A_Stressed_Cupcake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/Only_Slightly_Obsessed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scattered_Irises/pseuds/Scattered_Irises
Summary: Sometimes, a few seconds can change a whole story.This a choose-your-own-adventure spinoff and canon divergence of Scattered_Irises's "Of Lace And Porcelain"Multiple endings based on your choices  :)
Series: Of Lace and Porcelain [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663063
Kudos: 4





	1. Introduction

Hello friends :)

This is Rémy from Only_Slightly_Obsessed, and this story is a sort of collab with dear Scattered_Irises, whom I asked to write a brief introduction to explain what they think may be necessary information to understand where the story starts and where the idea came from. 

I will say that, though this of course contains many of the same disturbing themes found in _Of Lace and Porcelain_ , it is significantly less explicit in some regards. 

However, the first few chapters are relatively tame and therefore you should be able to read those without issue if you’re considering reading this story.

For a more immersive reading experience, please remember to follow the instructions at the end of each chapter. Let us know what ending you got first :)

A word from Irises now… 

______

A note from Scattered-Irises, the original writer of _Of Lace and Porcelain,_

Hello dear readers! 

In these times of cold, uncertainty and illness, Rémy and I thought that it would be a good idea to create a gift of sorts. Mostly written by my good friend Rémy and with my consultation, this is a “choose your own adventure” story featuring Christopher and Michael. It’s like after a movie is released and a game on the Nintendo DS based on the movie is released. This is the Nintendo game. 

Although not canon, my friend and I thought that it would have made a wonderful “what if” set of scenarios. 

For new readers, welcome! This is OLAP’s choose your own adventure spinoff (Might as well just start a horror franchise at this point). What is OLAP? In short, it’s a story about Thomas Arclight snapping and mutilating his brothers and their friends in the wake of Tron’s departure. He turns them into living dolls, partially inspired by the song _Puppet Master, Finest Creation._

Rémy’s story begins a few days after Thomas has kidnapped and mutilated Michael. You play as Christopher, racing against the clock to save your brother...or yourself. 

It is strongly suggested that you at least read chapters 1-3 of OLAP before starting this. You can read the fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20090821/chapters/47586289)

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy Rémy’s take on my tale. 

  
  


—Scattered-Irises

_______

Thank you Irises :)

All that being said,

_Go to the next chapter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been posted :D
> 
> I apologise in advance and let me know of any mistakes in numbers, posting 52 chapters at once can get confusing
> 
> -Rémy


	2. Chapter 2

It's hard to breathe when you're touching his arm and all you feel is plastic. It's hard to think about _anything_ except that there is only one person who could've done this, and he's just down the stairs.

One thought alone is clear in your head.

You have to leave.

The dress is a hassle, but taking it off might waste more time and upset Michael on top of that.

  * Take it off. (chapter 3)
  * Don't, there's no time. (chapter 4)




	3. Chapter 3

You undo the buttons on his back and pull the top of the dress away. Michael shakes his head in fear. He looks like he's done this before.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you pull the sleeves off, but the right gets stuck in his elbow joint. 

You pull harder. The joint creaks menacingly and Michael hisses in what could be either pain or fear. You decide to try and get it unstuck instead.

With some work, the sleeve is free, but, before you have time to celebrate, Michael opens his mouth in a silent scream.

Not a scream, a warning, you realise a moment too late, when something crashes into the back of your head.

You wake up cold on a silver table.

Someone's coming.

_Dead_ _End 0: The Story Remains The Same_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad luck.  
> This is a dead end. 
> 
> Start over.


	4. Chapter 4

You choose to ignore the dress. There's no time.

Cradling Michael's head to your chest, you slip out the door and close it behind you, hoping it might buy you more time. You need to make sure Thomas doesn't notice you. You're not sure you can take him in a straight fight, and you're still carrying Michael.

You hear the water turning off downstairs. 

There's no time.

To buy some time, you could go back to the bathroom, turn on the shower to make noise (and justify your shower excuse), and then run back downstairs when Thomas passes by. However, you would need to backtrack a bit, and he's already on the first step. It would be easier to get into your bedroom, it's right next to you.

  * Turn on the shower and sneak past him. (chapter 5)
  * Hide in your bedroom instead. (chapter 6)




	5. Chapter 5

You run back to the bathroom as quietly as possible and set Michael down next to the door. 

You turn on the shower, and press your ear to the door.

Thomas walks past without a second thought.

You have seconds to move. 

If you move fast enough, you can slip out of the bathroom and lock Thomas in his room the moment he gets in. Surely, he will notice Michael's absence immediately, and he will know what happened. If you can use that split second of shock to your advantage… 

Otherwise, you could lock yourself in the bathroom and find a way down the window. 

  * Lock him in his room. (chapter 7)
  * Lock yourselves in the bathroom. (chapter 8)




	6. Chapter 6

You slip into your bedroom, keeping your hand on the door so you can make a run for it as soon as Thomas is far enough. You're sure that if Michael's arms could still move, he'd be clinging to you. You hope that possibility isn't just a dream.

You hear the door of Thomas's room click.

A split second. 

Running footsteps, going back into the room.

You push the door open with all your might and sprint away from him and his room, praying he's too distracted and shocked to notice.

He isn't.

In a split second, he's back in the corridor, roaring with rage, and, unlike you, he isn't carrying any weights.

He grabs Michael's arm just as soon as you've reached the top of the stairs.

You have no certainties at all beyond  _ if he catches us, it's the end _ .

  * Leave Michael and run. (chapter 9)
  * Shove Thomas away. (chapter 10)




	7. Chapter 7

You mouth to Michael:  _ I'll be right back _ .

You don't wait for his reaction.

The moment Thomas has gone far enough ahead, you slip out of the bathroom and walk after him, as silently as you can. The noise of the shower and Thomas's cheerful hum cover your tracks as you both make your way to his room.

You know, when he opens the door, it will be your time to strike.

Thomas pulls the door open without a second thought, a relaxed yet somewhat excited smile stretching his lips, just for a moment, just until he notices that not all is as he left it. That split second, where his lips pull down and part in shock, where he lets go of the door handle, that is your moment.

With all the strength and rage you can muster, you elbow him exactly in the midpoint between his shoulder blades, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to fall, coughing and gasping, to the floor of his bedroom. 

You pull the key from the lock and scramble to get it closed, turning it one, two, three times, until you're sure he won't be able to pick it in the time it will take you to put this cursed mansion far behind you.

Thomas's protests and screams are drowned out by the blood pulsing madly in your ears. You drop the key into your pocket and run back inside the bathroom, gathering Michael into your arms once more.

You don't bother to turn off the shower.

Flying, more than running, down the stairs, you bust the front door open with your shoulder and sprint as far away from the mansion as you can.

Looking back, only for a moment, you can see Thomas standing at his window.

He isn't yelling anymore, but the venomous stare he has fixed on you is worse. It's a promise.

_ I'll come back for you _ , those eyes say.

You hold Michael a little closer and run off towards the center of the city. He lays his head on your shoulder, dejected.

Elsewhere in the city, it's already starting to rain.

_ Go to chapter 11 _


	8. Chapter 8

You reach out for the key in the bathroom door's lock. You turn it, once, twice, three times, until it can't go any further.

You kneel down to Michael's level.

"We're going to run." you whisper, "I'll find a way to get us down to the garden, okay? We don't have much time."

His jaw is stiff from fear, but he nods regardless.

You open the window. The air smells like rain and the windowsill is wet. Maybe if you tie all the towels you can put together a rope? That will take some time, though. 

You have no other option. It's too high to jump. 

With almost cathartic desperation, you open the laundry closet and pull out all the spare towels you can find, favouring the longer bath towels. Even just tying two or three of those together could cushion the fall enough. You get to work.

Outside the door, Thomas shrieks and bangs on the wall in rage, trying to break down the door, pick the lock,  _ something _ . Michael looks more nervous with every sound.

Finally, the rope reaches the desired length. You secure it to the window.

You grab Michael with one arm and hoist him over the windowsill. He is so clearly trying not to look down.

"It's alright." you assure him.

As you stand on the windowsill, the rope in one hand and your brother in the other, the sounds from outside taper off into an uneasy silence.

No time.

You try to adjust your position to avoid breaking the towel rope when you drop, but just at that moment, one last, delayed outburst from Thomas startles you. 

The windowsill is slippery under your shoes.

You scramble to hold the rope, but Michael falls from your grasp. You can only look away.

The crash he makes when he hits the ground isn't the sound a human should make.

You hang from the window and the doll that was your brother is barely even a doll anymore. His lower right leg, unhinged at the knee, is stuck in the dirt, the right arm was ripped off entirely, and a growing stain of blood paints the grass under his head, twisted at the wrong angle.

Somewhere, you can hear descending footsteps. The knot is loosening.

_ Dead End 1: La Poupée Cassée _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dolls are so fragile, aren't they?  
> This a dead end.  
> Start over.


	9. Chapter 9

Your mind does all the work for you.

Michael is mutilated beyond repair. There is not much worse, at this point, that Thomas can do to him. But you, on the other hand, you, he's furious at you now.

In an instant, your self-preservation instinct wins over whatever love you had for the husk that used to be your little brother.

You let him go and hear a sharp, voiceless gasp just behind you when Thomas pulls him away.

But, if human selfishness works hard, karma works harder. 

The imbalance of no longer having him in your arms causes you to miscalculate where your foot should land and you slip forward off the third step from the top. You have maybe a millisecond to register the ground speeding towards you, but it feels like it lasted longer than your entire, brief life.

Your head hits at least five steps, you think, jostling your spine and rattling your ribcage, until you land a broken heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Your vision is beginning to fade, but your eyes find your brothers quickly.

Thomas, looking down at you with cold, impassive rage, holds a possessive grip around Michael.

"Good." is the only comment he makes.

Michael can do nothing except turn away, but you can see, so clearly, the betrayal on his face as he rightfully denies you one last look.

You let your head fall back. 

Your eyes are open, but you can't tell anymore.

_ Dead End 2: Karma _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, that's just mean.  
> This is a dead end.
> 
> Start over.


	10. Chapter 10

The tug on Michael's arm enrages you more than anything else.

_ No _ , you think to yourself,  _ you are never going to touch him again _ .

It's a promise you make damn well sure to convey when you look directly into Thomas's eyes and elbow him right in the sternum, knocking the breath out of him. But you'll make sure he stays down for a while this time. As soon as he's let go of Michael's arm and fallen back, you take good care to kick him across the temple. His head lolls to the side and there, he's unconscious.

You run out the door just as it's starting to rain once more.

_ Go to chapter 11 _


	11. Chapter 11

The light drizzle that was dancing around you only minutes ago has quickly turned into a torrential downpour. The rain runs in rivulets down your cheeks, like the tears you can't seem to spill, blurring your vision and making your feet slosh uncomfortably in your shoes.

But you're close.

Security doesn't question your presence at Heartland Tower anymore, you are officially authorised to enter and, as far as they know, you're simply carrying a life-sized doll and clearly in need of shelter.

It's Kaito, thankfully, who greets you at the door: "It's raining buckets out there. Did you get caught in it? What is th-"

He freezes completely when Michael turns his head towards him.

"Not  _ what _ ." you correct him, and your voice cracks from the effort, " _ Who _ ."

"Come in." says Kaito, even paler than usual.

You’re sitting by the fire now. Droite and Gauche, apparently there to visit by pure chance, sit silently on either side of you; the wrong side, ironically, while Kaito and Haruto, sandwiching Michael so he doesn’t fall over, sit across from you. You are doing all you can do to forget about the fact that Haruto has to help Michael drink his hot chocolate because  _ his bloody arms are missing _ . 

You called the police immediately, of course, but Thomas was long gone by the time they got there. You desperately need to collect yourself and your thoughts and you know it, but you feel like Michael and Haruto in particular should not be around to hear it.

  * Don't say it in front of them. Check they're okay. (chapter 12)
  * Ignore them. They're old enough. (chapter 13)




	12. Chapter 12

"Haruto," you call, "Don't you think it's a little late for you to be up still?"

Haruto shrugs.

You turn to your brother: "Michael, are you tired? I think you should get some decent food now, you've had too much sugar."

Michael seems to agree wholeheartedly with the  _ too much sugar  _ thing. Haruto was considerate enough to leave his cup of chocolate bitter, but it was still chocolate and he should probably get in some soup after being out in the rain.

He nods tiredly.

"Can you speak, at all?" asks Gauche, clearly doing his best, but receiving a pointed glare from his friends all the same.

Michael turns to Haruto, closest to him, and seems to whisper something, given that he's moving his lips. Haruto nods.

"He says:  _ only very, very quietly _ ." he translates for the rest of you. 

_ You've earned 1 point! _

_ Remember the points you get. They will be important. _

_ Go to chapter 14. _


	13. Chapter 13

You frown.

"I don't know what to do now." you murmur, "One of my brothers just made the other into a damn  _ doll _ and now he's on the loose. He'll be back for us. He'll be back for  _ him _ ." 

You nod at Michael.

The truth hangs heavy over all of you. Haruto shivers. Michael looks away and his eyes lose their shine for a moment. 

Kaito exchanges a single look with his brother and clears his throat: "We'll have time to figure it out tomorrow. Or tonight, if you'd prefer, but I imagine you're both very tired. Michael?"

Michael just nods, absent-mindedly.

"Can you make any sound at all? With your voice?" asks Gauche, uncharacteristically gentle.

Michael nods again.

_ Go to chapter 14. _


	14. Chapter 14

"That's good. But he still needs medical attention. At least a check-up. Improvised surgery like that…" Droite murmurs, nervously, "You can never be too careful."

"Mh." agrees Kaito, "I don't know if I trust a hospital, though. It seems too exposed. Don't you remember Rio?"

_ Everyone _ remembers Rio.

"Are you suggesting we bunker down in here instead?" 

Gauche scratches the beard on his chin: "I don't know. Much better security here, but we don't have actual medical staff."

Kaito turns to you: "Chris?"

  * Take him to the hospital immediately. (chapter 15)
  * It's not an emergency. Stay in the tower until it's safe. (chapter 16)




	15. Chapter 15

"Call an ambulance." you decide, "We can always leave someone to stay with him. Not a nurse, though. One of us. I don't trust a stranger."

"I'll call the hospital." offers Droite, already dialing the emergency number. When the operator asks what her emergency is, she pauses for a moment, unsure of how to explain the situation.

You beckon her to hand over the phone. She gives you a sort of pitying look, but complies.

You explain, as calmly as you can manage, that your brother was abducted and mutilated and you need help,  _ now _ . You omit the culprit for the time being. It's not necessary information.

The operator assures you that an ambulance is on the way, asks for details, and informs you that it will take no more than five minutes.

True to her word, the ambulance arrives.

You are, with minimal convincing needed, allowed to stay with Michael on the way there. Kaito and Droite promise to join you soon, while Gauche is assigned to watch Haruto, who is  _ not _ allowed to leave until the situation settles down. He isn't too happy about it, but it's hardly news for him.

On the way to the hospital, you keep a hand on Michael's shoulder, where you know he can still feel it.

You are admitted without question and you stay by Michael's side while a nurse takes a sample of his blood and inserts an IV line into his neck, in the absence of arms. Michael doesn't seem too phased by any of it. He's significantly more reluctant about having to get into a hospital gown, but that's over quickly enough too, and soon you are settled into a quiet hospital room with a window much too large for your tastes.

Kaito and Droite arrive about half an hour later, with some things you asked them to pick up from the mansion, where the police are still searching for clues on Thomas's whereabouts. You are infinitely grateful they went there in your place.

Michael greets them with a nod of his head, but the twitch of his shoulder suggests that he instinctively tried to wave at them, and your chest begins to ache. Fortunately, he seems much calmer than before. He doesn't look like he's on the verge of tears anymore, and he seems genuinely grateful for the textbook Droite presents him with. He requests chapter 10 and she opens it for him.

While they're busy reading, you discuss plans with Kaito in whispers and gestures. The general idea is  _ keep a tight surveillance on Michael until Thomas is arrested _ and a healthy dose of  _ try not to run into Thomas yourself _ .

The details are the difficult part.

Regardless, the sun sets and visiting hours end. You send Kaito and Droite off to their own business and prepare for a long night of sitting at your brother’s bedside and attempting to communicate successfully.

You are thankfully saved from too much one-sided conversation by the timely arrival of a nurse and dinner. You thank her. She asks if you could help Michael eat. You agree.

The nurse leaves.

You help him with some soup and other soft or liquid foods that he won’t have too much trouble with. He complained that his throat still burned just a few hours ago, and you have no trouble believing that, on account of his botched throat surgery and being caught in a rainstorm. You hope he doesn't catch a cold.

After he's finished eating, it's your turn. Hospital food isn't the best, but you can't bring yourself to care when you're getting more and more tired every minute. So tired.

Only a few bites into your extremely bloody steak, you can feel your eyelids growing heavier. The knife misses steak and plate and falls uselessly on the bed, staining the sheets.

Your breath is rapidly slowing.

Michael realizes what's happening only moments after you do, but he can't help you. You fall at his bedside, just like five years ago, and the spots in your vision make it impossible to see. There is nothing in your dreams except for the silent, voiceless scream of a doll.

When you wake up, the bed is empty, safe for a note written in red pen:

_ I'll be back for you later _ .

There's no need for a signature.

_ Dead End 3: Hospital Food. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes!  
> And here I thought hospitals were supposed to be safe.   
> Oh, you're not safe, by the way, not entirely. The point system stands, but there is one more dead end you have to look out for.
> 
> Start over.


	16. Chapter 16

You shake your head.

“It’s safer here.” you decide, “The more people we can trust, the more security we have. In fact, we might need  _ more  _ people.”

Yes, but who? You decide to shelf that for now and turn back to your brother: “I think you should rest a bit. You look exhausted.”

His lip curls downward, but he doesn’t protest. He really is exhausted, though maybe not physically. The look on his face is just pure nothing. 

Besides, he doesn’t need to be present for this. He can’t exactly offer a contribution in the state he’s in, and you would honestly much prefer to talk it out with Kaito first. One look at him is enough.

“I think it’s time for Haruto to go to bed, too.” he says, “Could you-”

Droite and Gauche stand up in sync, like the well-oiled machine they are. You really need to stop thinking about gears and machines. While Gauche goes to pick up Michael, so clearly trying to hide the discomfort on his face when the mechanical limbs clack together, Droite holds her hand out to Haruto. The kid thinks for maybe half a second before deciding that her back is a much more appealing target. She protests that maybe he’s getting a little too old and a little too heavy to ask her for piggyback rides, but she’s already carrying him away all the same.

There’s a little weight in the pit of your stomach. Some part of you insists:  _ it shouldn’t have gone like this _ ,  _ none of this should’ve happened, we could have just been a normal family _ . Some other part scoffs that no, you couldn’t have. There was no hope, for you or for your brothers, of a normal family. Never. And you should’ve known the moment you read your father’s death certificate years ago. You should’ve known the moment a strange child walked into your home like he owned the place. You should’ve known.

Kaito hears you sigh. It snaps his attention away from the merry quartet and back to your undeserving self.

“You can stay as long as you need.” he clarifies, right away.

You nod: “Thank you. I… it won’t be long, I hope. But if there’s one thing we’ve learned, unfortunately…”

“It’s staying off the radar.”

“Yes.”

Kaito pauses.

“We’ll find him or he’ll find us.” he says, “Either way, he’s outnumbered.”

It’s good enough, for now.

If you were to judge by the bags under everyone’s eyes the next morning, you would say that no one slept. Which does not make you feel very well, because you did, you did sleep, and you slept deeply and dreamlessly. And sure, you might simply be exhausted from carrying your brother halfway through the city during a rainstorm, although Michael is so much lighter now than he used to be. 

You’ve changed him out of the torn, frilly dress, but you haven’t removed the doll limbs. None of you are doctors, after all. You’re not going to mess with that. Besides, he cringed at the mere suggestion of removing his, albeit false, limbs. Understandable, really. Even being a doll sounds better than being a limbless torso to you. 

Haruto has apparently become his best friend overnight. Michael, without complaint or any trace of discomfort, is letting him feed him breakfast and occasionally leans in to tell him something. They’re having as amiable a conversation as someone without vocal cords can have, while everyone else sits in uncomfortable silence. The irony does not escape you.

Droite quietly informs you that she heard from the police and that someone matching Thomas’s description was last spotted yesterday evening near the local hospital. You thank her for the information and thank God you chose to stay in the tower. 

Haruto says something that must've been funny, judging by Michael's breathy laugh, but he has taken to speaking very quietly to match his voiceless whispers, so no one else heard it. You wonder if reality just hasn't hit Michael yet or if he's already had time to deal with it in the… God, the  _ days _ he spent being nothing but a pretty plaything. He seems calm now, but you know how his humours can change with the simplest of triggers.

And, indeed, the trigger comes.

It really is simple. All it takes is Haruto choosing the wrong pastry to feed him. He chews it, without issue, for maybe one second, before the light smile that adorned his face fades away and his eyes grow glassy and distant.

He looks so pale now.

Everyone goes silent as Haruto uselessly tries to get his attention again. The poor child is understandably confused.

And panicked, when a tear springs at the corner of Michael's eye and his shoulders start to shake.

Haruto manages to get him to move again, but it's too late to stop the tears. Michael hunches over as much as he can to hide his reddened face and, soon enough, a tear splashes on the tablecloth.

Silence falls.

  * Comfort him. (chapter 17)
  * Tell him to stop crying. (chapter 18)




	17. Chapter 17

You stand up so fast you nearly cut yourself with the bread knife laid haphazardly across the table.

"Michael. Michael." you murmur, making your way over to him. Haruto moves away without needing to be told anything. You kneel in front of your brother and cup his face in your hands: "Look at me. Look at me, alright?"

Gently, you lift his head. He dares only brief glances at you, but his eyes keep dancing around the room, fleeing in shame. You tap your right thumb on his cheek and he seems to calm down just a little.

"Michael." you repeat, "Look at me."

Shyly, he meets your eyes.

"You're not there anymore." you assure him, so quietly you almost match his tone, "You're with us. You're never going back there."

Michael nods shakily, leaning into your touch maybe a little too desperately. Wordlessly, you sit beside him instead of across from him. 

Breakfast resumes and, soon enough, he's back to making pleasant conversation with Haruto, and a little light is back in his eyes.

_ You've earned 1 point! _

_ Remember the points you get. They will be important. _

_ Go to chapter 19. _


	18. Chapter 18

You frown in what must look like concern. Maybe it is. But, whatever it is, at the bottom of it there is nothing but contempt. Regret, maybe, for having someone so fragile on your shoulders.

You didn't ask for this. 

"Stop crying." you command before you can even think.

Michael's already silent sobs die down immediately. He nods, frantic and choppy, and just turns his head as far away from the group as he can. It doesn't stop the tears.

If Droite and Kaito are looking at you in what seems like confusion, there's no mistaking the pure contempt in Gauche's expression before he digs a pack of tissues from his pocket and tosses them at Haruto. 

The table remains untouched.

_ Go to chapter 19 _ .


	19. Chapter 19

While Droite is on babysitting duty, and doing a surprisingly good job at it, you decide to call in reinforcements.

The first who come to mind are the twins, the only ones you know who are so all at once angry and caring. And the only people you know besides your family that ever held sway over Thomas. Not that simply convincing him to drop it is the plan, necessarily, but if you're being honest… you'd like nothing better than to just get him help. 

Family feuds are much too messy, you should know that by now.

You struggle, once again, to explain the situation to the twins. They both just keep on interrupting you. It irks you just a little. On one hand, their shock is completely understandable. On the other, it’s hard enough for you to talk about this without having to explain the same thing over and over again, considering that the  _ thing _ in question is the brutal mutilation of your brother. 

Still, at least they sound sympathetic. As Rio ends the call, you can hear a motorcycle’s engine revving up and you can presume they’re on their way. 

They arrive in the span of ten minutes, and they’re not alone. 

“Oh.” is your only comment.

“The more the better, right?” shrugs Rio. 

Durbe shifts awkwardly: “Probably.”

"Was he with you?" you ask.

Ryoga takes responsibility. "He was, and you did say you wanted more people around."

  * Scold him for bringing him along without permission. (chapter 20)
  * Welcome them. The more the better, indeed. (chapter 21)




	20. Chapter 20

"I would have liked a warning." you say, coldly enough to lower the temperature in the room, "You'll forgive me for being distrustful after I found out what my  _ own brother _ did."

Durbe looks uncomfortable: "I can go back."

"No." say the twins in unison.

"No one should go around alone now. Right?" adds Rio, but there's some uncharacteristic anxiety in her eyes and her hand hovers beside her friend's arm.

She makes a good point. 

"Fine." you concede, "As long as you don't plan on bringing the other four along, too."

"They're out of town."

"Alright."

The trio steps inside, inseparable as ever, in almost perfect synchrony. It could be a coincidence, but with these three, you never know. They have the capacity to be intimidating: you know that much, at least.

You let Kaito handle the rest of the conversation and go take the next call.

_ Go to chapter 22. _


	21. Chapter 21

You sigh.

"Come in." you say, stepping aside to let them in. They scuttle inside the room and you lock the door behind them.

Rio takes a sweeping gaze around the room: "How's Michael?" she asks, when she can’t see him anywhere.

"Resting." you mumble, "Not much else he can do. He's already doing better than yesterday, at least. But he can't move, or talk any louder than a whisper."

Ryoga shoots you an uncharacteristically sympathetic look: "I see."

"Can we help at all?" Durbe intervenes, "In any way?"

You think for a moment.

"I suppose if you could help Droite keep him distracted, it would make her job much easier."

You remember a second too late that maybe Droite and Durbe in particular don't especially want to be stuck in the same room, but he accepts immediately. 

Hoping she doesn't mind either, you let Kaito handle the rest of the conversation and head off to take the next call.

The one you really dread.

_ You've earned a point! _

_ Remember to keep track of your points, as they will be important later.  _

_ Go to chapter 22. _


	22. Chapter 22

Just as you predicted, Yuma starts running before you're anywhere near finished speaking. Yes, running, because that's how he gets everywhere, that's how he always gets everywhere, even after he got a driver's license, even if the bullet train runs significantly faster than he ever could, because that's just how he is. He gets caught up in the moment and all he can do is run.

You omit nothing. You know it would be useless with him.

In all honesty, unlike the trio that just arrived, you're really not sure that Yuma could help with the investigation, or medical care. But you know one thing for sure, and that is that no one can get any closer to Michael's heart than he does. You certainly can't.

You wonder if you should warn Michael of his arrival or just let it be a pleasant surprise.

Maybe he needs to brace himself. Yuma's energy can be a bit overwhelming.

You decide to warn him.

When you enter the room, you find him essentially receiving a lecture in dead languages, courtesy of Durbe, while Droite and the twins sit by the window with what looks like amusement on their face. Understandable. Nothing is as lovely as two history nerds getting so caught up in the past of humanity that they forget to be sad about their own.

It's almost a pity to interrupt them, but if you know Yuma at all you know he'll be here any minute, so you clear your throat to draw attention to yourself.

“I’ve called Yuma.” you announce, without frills or pretenses.

It’s a magical name, that one. Everyone’s ears perk up before you’re even done speaking, though Ryoga masks a smile with a groan. You give yourself the tiniest pat on the back for the only good decision you’ve made in days aside from avoiding the hospital. Jury’s still out on not leaving the country altogether.

You can’t  _ hear _ Michael’s sigh of relief, per se, but you can feel it. 

Again, good decision. You know it’s not quite fair to drag so many people into this, but you know something else too: you know that you're far from the best of them, and you know you have never been a good brother in your life.

Still, something tugs uncomfortably at your guts when Yuma finally does show up and Michael makes the only sound he can make: a breathy gasp. Something stirs when Yuma throws his arms around him and he hooks his chin over his shoulder, because that's the only way he can reciprocate.

You are uncomfortable.

  * Ask Yuma to stay and help. (chapter 23)
  * Pull him away. (chapter 24)




	23. Chapter 23

You chalk the discomfort up to the painful reminder of Michael's condition. Maybe a little bit of jealousy if you are to be honest with yourself, because you never did manage to make him feel better quite so easily. You never managed to turn someone's life around as much as Yuma did. It feels strange to be envious of someone seven years younger than you, but he truly does deserve your admiration, for how hard it is to earn it.

"Yuma." you call him. He turns his head as far as he can without pulling away from the hug. "Thank you for coming here. Could I ask you to look after my brother for some time today?"

"Of course!" he nods, vigorously, rubbing a circle into Michael's shoulders, "Not just today. I'll stay as long as he wants me to."

He turns back, pensively, letting his head sink into the crook of your brother’s neck: "Why would anyone do this to you?" he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear, running his hand up and down through Michael's hair. You could swear his voice cracked just a little. 

He might already be crying. You're not willing to sit through that right now. You slip out of the room, swiftly followed by Droite, the only one who lingered after Yuma's arrival.

You think you've had a good idea today.

_ You've earned a point! _

_ Remember to keep track of your points, they will be important later. _

_ Go to chapter 25. _


	24. Chapter 24

The uncomfortable feeling bubbles up into your chest and burns your throat until you  _ have _ to intervene. You set your hand on Yuma's shoulder and pull him away from Michael: "Alright, enough of that."

They both look at you in confusion. Yuma seems so disheartened: "Why?"

"Because there's no time." you say, "I'm going to need all hands on deck if we're going to find Thomas."

"Yeah…" he scratches the back of his head, "I still can't believe he would… just…"

"You don't have to believe it, but it's the truth." you state, coldly, "And, one way or another, we have to stop him before he does any more damage than  _ that _ ."

You point directly at Michael, who averts his eyes immediately. Yuma's hand still lingers near his elbow joint. 

Everyone else has left the room except for Droite, who shoots you a strange look. She looks at you, glances at Yuma, and then shifts her eyes towards Michael, almost with purpose. She has to repeat this movement three times before you catch on to her suggestion.

"Fine." you assert, out loud, snapping Yuma's attention back to you, "We do need someone to keep an eye on him, and Droite has been here for hours. Take over for her for a bit."

He nods with his signature grin, but it's not as bright as usual. 

You and Droite leave the room while he sits next to Michael.

_ Go to chapter 25 _ .


	25. Chapter 25

You don't find Kaito in the next room. You are informed that he's called you to the lab to ask you something.

You reach him there and find him working on some strange blueprints that seem to depict… severed limbs? 

A shiver runs up your spine.

"What are those?" you ask, almost coldly.

He only lifts his eyes from the blueprints for a moment, before going back to work: "I was thinking that if we're just going to focus on protecting before attacking, we're going to be in here a while. And I do have experience in robotics, and…" he lifts a blueprint to show you what looks like a drawing of an intricate arm design: "Don't you think it would already be much better if he had arms, at least? We can work on the legs later, but even just arms…"

"He could communicate more efficiently." you nod, "And perform simple tasks."

"I've seen him." murmurs Kaito, "He hates being fed and dressed. I don't particularly want to imagine why. But if he could do at least some things by himself…"

"He would also need less protection if it came down to it." 

"Yes. And robotic arms are stronger than regular arms."

You nod. For the first time in days, something resembling a light shines at the end of the dark and nebulous tunnel that is your future.

Finally, some good news.

"I need to take some measurements." mumbles Kaito, "So I can make the parts the right size."

  * Offer your help. (chapter 26)
  * Wish him good luck. (chapter 27)




	26. Chapter 26

"I can take them." you offer, "I'll help you. This would go faster with help, right?"

"Yes." smiles Kaito, "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do after everything you've done for us."

He brushes the thanks off, but you can see the pride in his posture. He can be so kind sometimes.

As you walk back to Michael's room with a roll of measuring tape in your hands, you think back on Kaito's kindness and it occurs to you that not only are you far from the best of these people, you may actively be the worst. You see them, once bullies and villains and hunters, caring for each other and for you better than you ever deserved. It is, at once, beautiful and so disheartening to think that everyone here is so much better than you are.

You are the moon, you always were, though you liked to pretend to be a star.

Your light is nothing but a reflection of someone else's.

Michael doesn't flinch or even look uncomfortable when you hold his false arms out to measure them. You wonder why he smiles at you like he wants to thank you. 

He couldn't possibly want to thank you.

He has nothing to thank you for.

When you return with the measurements, Kaito has finished the blueprint.

You spend the rest of the day and the rest of the night planning and shaping metal pieces and bolting and fitting joint after joint, wire after wire and piece after piece.

In your comfortable silence, when the sun rises, you hold a finished, dormant right arm in your hands.

You know you won't stop until you've made the left.

_ You've earned a point! _

_ Keep track of your points! They will be useful later. _

_ Go to chapter 28. _


	27. Chapter 27

"You really are a genius." you comment, with an unwanted note of bitterness, "Well… good luck."

Kaito looks almost taken back: "Do… you think you could help me out a little? This would go a lot faster."

"I'm not going to touch those things if I don't have to." you deadpan, ignoring the memory of the click and clack of plastic as you were running in the rain.

" _Those_ _things_ are the closest thing he has to limbs at this point." snaps Kaito, "And since when do you not want to help me?"

"Since one of my brothers decided it would be fun to mutilate the other." 

You don't wait for his response.

_ Go to chapter 28. _


	28. Chapter 28

You return to the living room in the morning to find Durbe and the twins sitting at a computer.

“What are you doing?” you ask, and three heads snap up at you in unison. It’s like they’re three twins instead of two sometimes. You can tell they’ve grown closer since the last time you’ve seen the three of them in the same room, years ago. It’s strange. 

Maybe things really  _ were _ changing without you noticing.

Maybe time really  _ is _ passing you by.

Maybe it makes sense, just a little, just to admit quietly to yourself, that Thomas would want to freeze time as it is. You will never say it out loud, but you know it. You have not forgotten or, much less, forgiven. You  _ understand _ , but you refuse to forgive or forget, you will not forget, ever, and you can’t forget now.

It isn’t over.

“We’re sorting police reports.” says Rio, returning her full attention to the laptop in front of her, “Nothing too definite yet. I didn’t think he’d be  _ this _ good at staying out of sight.”

“I scolded him about it too many times for him to not learn anything.” you mutter, “I didn’t think he was listening. I didn’t think he would actually…”

“He’s smarter than he looks.” interrupts Ryoga, “We know. I only  _ wish  _ he was as much of a dumbass as he seems. It would make this so much easier.”

He sounds both genuinely angry and a trace of something else that you can’t quite identify. You don’t think he got any sleep, if his face is any indication. It’s an honest relief to see him so invested in this, but it doesn’t alleviate your guilt about getting so many people involved in the slightest. Then again, maybe he would’ve been involved anyway, something tells you. 

You have a terrible feeling that someone will be harmed, but you have a terrible feeling that someone would have been harmed no matter what. You don’t know why, but you think it could be worse.

“Have you found anything? At all?” you insist.

Rio turns the laptop towards you: “Look through these if you’d like. There is nothing substantial after the hospital. You’d think  _ someone _ would recognise him! He’s famous, for God’s sake!”

“Maybe he’s just been hiding somewhere.” suggests Durbe, “Maybe he left.”

“I doubt it.” you say, “He’ll be back for us, I know it.”

You feel the grip of your fingers on the top of the screen grow tighter: “The way he looked at me, the way he looked at  _ Michael _ , you’d think I was ripping his lungs from his chest. No, he’ll be back. You should have seen him. He was like a rabid dog. I haven’t seen him like that in years. He won’t give up until he gets what he wants.”

“What  _ does _ he want?”

“Mh?” 

You turn your head to find Ryoga has stood from his seat.

“What does he want?” he repeats, “What the hell is wrong with him this time? Why does he want Michael? Why was he so desperate to keep you from leaving?”

“I’m not sure.” you admit, “He’s been acting strange ever since father left. Michael told me some of the things he said to him, too. But he’s not sure it was real. When you can’t move for a long time, I imagine reality may start to slip a little. But some of the things he told me, I…”

You take a long pause and a deep sigh and start again: “He said that Thomas wanted him to stop growing up. Stay the way he was forever, stay with  _ him _ forever. If… I think he might’ve been afraid we would leave, too, just like father did. I’m afraid there was at least some truth to that. But to…”

You find yourself unable to continue. They don’t push you.

Durbe breaks the silence: “I don’t think he’s hiding. If he really is as desperate as you say, he won’t be licking his wounds for too long. Besides, the more time he takes to find us, the more chances he has of being found if he stays around here. And I agree, he probably didn’t leave.”

“So?” Rio doesn’t look away from her notes.

“So we either keep searching or we wait him out.” he suggests, “He’ll come up with something eventually. If we can trap him, or maybe… I don’t know, lure him out, or even just wait and strengthen our defenses…”

Their eyes fall on you again. 

“It could work. I suppose.” is the only feedback you feel like offering, but it’s good enough for them.

“Good.” nods Rio, “Just as long as he doesn’t get away with it.”

The notion feels like a jolt of electricity through your back.

  * Agree with her. (chapter 29)
  * Tell her it’s none of her business. (chapter 30)




	29. Chapter 29

The pain fades quickly and a spike of determination runs through your spine in its place.

“Yes.” you nod, “You’re right. He won't. I'll make sure of it."

Rio nods, seemingly pleased: "Glad to see we're on the same page. We'll do our damnedest to help you out. Because if karma doesn't hit Thomas, I sure as hell will."

It doesn't get a laugh out of you, because that's as rare as snow in August, but it does manage to curl your lip upwards just a little.

"I'll save a hit for you." you promise.

Rio scoffs: "Bold of you to assume I won't sucker punch the bitch the moment I see him."

" _Rio_." scolds Ryoga without lifting his eyes from the PC.

"What?"

"No, she has a point." you say, "If you see him, by all means, feel free to punch him. If you can knock him out, even better."

"Well, you didn't need to tell me that." Ryoga mumbles.

You nod: "Best of luck to you."

It's about time you went back to the lab, but you should probably check on Michael first. On the other hand, it's pretty early. He's probably sleeping.

You decide to just poke your head in for a moment.

When you open the door as quietly as you can, you find Michael is, indeed, sleeping. Yuma is in a similar predicament on the armchair Gauche brought in yesterday, and Haruto has apparently decided to join in, curled up in the little space left between Yuma and the arms of the chair.

They all sleep as peacefully as someone in their predicament can.

You smile to yourself. 

_You've earned a point!_

_Remember to keep count of your points, qs they will be important later._

_Go to chapter 31_


	30. Chapter 30

The jolt travels up your back and out your mouth and, before you know it, you're spitting your usual icy words at the ice queen herself, Rio Kamishiro: "That is none of your business."

None of them appreciate it, but the twins look straight up angry.

"Jesus, what is it with you today?" snaps Ryoga, "I thought you'd worked out those pride issues."

"It's not a matter of pride." you say, coldly, "It's being self-reliant. You don't think Thomas is above hurting any of us, do you?"

"That's not the point." Rio grits her teeth like she wants to punch you, "The point is that we want to help you and Michael and make sure Thomas can't hurt anyone else. How is  _ this _ not pride, huh? You're getting help from everyone and accepting none of it."

You elect to ignore her.

"I will check on him. I have things to do." you mumble, already making your way out.

"Hey!  _ Hey _ !!" Rio yells after you, " _ This isn't over yet! _ "

She doesn't chase you, either because she doesn't care to or because someone held her back, you can't tell.

You make your way to the guest bedroom. 

Michael, Yuma and Haruto sleep soundly.

You nod quietly to yourself.

_ Go to chapter 31 _ .


	31. Chapter 31

As you're leaving, though, just out the corner of your eye, you spot a shadow at the window. On top of the tower.

When you turn around, there's nothing there, sure, and when you look down and around and all through the room you find nothing, and you  _ know _ you're too high up for someone to be standing out the window.

You spend the morning in Michael's room anyway.

In the afternoon, the other arm is finished.

It was much simpler to assemble, given that you already made all the pieces yesterday. Now, the only problem is attaching them.

Something none of you are remotely qualified to do.

"How are we going to do this?" mumbles Kaito, flipping the right arm up and down in his hands.

Holding the other close to your shoulder, you think for a moment.

"We need a hospital or at least a surgeon for this." you decide, "Unless you still have all the extremely elaborate medical machines you had five years ago."

"I do." he says, "but they haven't been maintained in some time. They've also never performed an actual surgery. It's too risky."

"So, we need a doctor." Droite intervenes.

"Yes, basically."

"We do have connections…" she mumbles, almost to herself. Her hand lingers over the emergency contacts list.

"None we can trust to watch him." Kaito points out, "And we're not taking him to the hospital unless we absolutely have to."

You agree with him. You never know.

"We can watch him ourselves." says Droite, "As we've done for days now."

You agree with her, too. The less people outside this circle, the better.

Kaito and Droite exchange a look.

"Call Dr. Mizashi." he suggests.

She nods and dials his number. 

It takes some time to explain the situation in a way that won't make Mizashi yell it out to the entire hospital. You supply help occasionally, and provide any details that are requested.

After the call, Droite sighs heavily.

"We should probably prepare him for surgery before tomorrow." she observes, already stumbling off to the guest bedroom. 

She looks exhausted.

  * Stop her and offer help. (chapter 32)
  * Wish her good luck. (chapter 33)




	32. Chapter 32

You close the distance between you and her and set a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you." you say, sincerely, "I'll help you. What are the requirements?"

She holds up three fingers: "One. Tell him what's going to happen. Two. A strict diet, preferably. Three…" she hesitates, "...remove the fake limbs. But I think we can do that tomorrow."

You pretend the notion of having to remove his limbs doesn't make a shiver run straight up your spine and nod at her: "I understand."

You enter the room to extremely quiet conversation and Yuma. Who is not included in that first statement. 

"Michael." you call, and his head snaps up to attention.

_ Yes? _ he seems to ask when he tilts his head to the side.

You sit at his side and Haruto once again moves to make room for you.

"Kaito and I have been working on prosthetic arms. Do you know that?"

He nods.

"We can't attach them ourselves." you explain, and you see his shoulders tense a little, "We will need to call a surgeon. He agreed to make room for us and come here tomorrow morning. Is that alright with you?"

Michael nods again, a bit more hesitantly. He tilts his head a little and you feel like he's trying to say something.

"Uh…"

"He wants you to get closer." Haruto helpfully translates like the godsend he is.

"Right."

You lean in closer to Michael until you're sure you can hear his breath in your ear.

" _ How long? Will I sleep _ ?" 

You almost flinch. His voice is so quiet. And what he's asking…

"Of course." you nod, "You won't even know it. It… will take some physiotherapy, Michael, I'm not going to lie, but soon enough you will have arms at least. Do you still remember sign language?"

He nods. He's smiling this time.

_ Thank you _ , he mouths, tilting his head forward in gratitude.

Before you know it, you've placed a hand on his head, just above the strange curl that sticks stubbornly out of his left side.

"Good." you murmur, "Don't worry."

He looks almost disappointed when you pull your hand away.

Droite explains anything you forgot to cover and then you both leave the room to the sound of quiet voices squeaking excitedly.

_ You've earned a point! _

_ Remember to keep track, they'll be important later. _

_ Go to chapter 34. _


	33. Chapter 33

"Good luck." you call after her. She pauses in the middle of the hallway.

"It might be best if you explained it to him." she puts forward, "Don't you think? I don't know him so well. You know, he's been speaking about you. You haven't shown your face in quite some time."

She crosses her arms.

Kaito expresses silent agreement. 

You choose to ignore them both and he drops the  _ silent _ part of  _ silent agreement _ .

"She's right." he simply states, "You should visit him now and then. Right now, you're the only family he has."

"We weren’t a family for a very long time." you argue, "I'm sure he can handle a few more days."

"Maybe so, but not  _ now! _ " snaps Kaito, "Not after everything that happened. We're doing our best to help you, Chris. The least you can do is contribute once in a while."

You meet his eyes. There's that familiar protective rage of his.

You turn your back on him and walk away.

_ Go to chapter 34. _


	34. Chapter 34

You have a hard time falling asleep that night.

You can't help but wonder if things will get any better when Michael has arms again. If he, you, and all the residents of the tower will be more at peace afterwards, knowing you have more of a chance against Thomas if it comes down to it.

Honestly, though, you don't know what you'll do. That fight, no matter how real a possibility it is, lives in a vague, dreamlike air of uncertainty in your mind. You don't know what could happen between now and then. You don't know if and how many of you will make it out uninjured. 

You ponder going out alone once you have more info. But it doesn't seem wise. The stakes of that fight are simply too high if you lose. You're well aware that everyone under this roof is at stake in this, and they were the moment you decided to involve them.

Tired of tossing and turning, after flipping your pillow for the fifth time, you give up and get out of bed. Perhaps a drink will clear your mind.

You slip unnoticed through the corridor, which is, much to your relief, completely silent.

But when you reach the common area, you find the kitchen lights are on. 

Some part of you knows it's probably nothing. Some other part insists that Thomas has found you. Unable to turn your back to that possibility, you silence the sound of your already quiet footsteps. It occurs to you that there are knives in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you take hold of a wrench either you or Kaito miraculously forgot on the living room table and sneak your way to the door.

It's scary how close you come to knocking Gauche down with a wrench.

"Jesus!" he hisses.

Your heart stops for a moment: "Uh-" 

He slumps a little against the counter: "You scared the shit out of me."

You slowly set the wrench down: "I apologise."

"You better."

"I was on edge."

He seems to soften just a little: "Yeah, I figured. Look, we're on top of a very heavily guarded tower. And if he  _ was _ in here, I sincerely doubt he would turn on the lights like this."

He is correct. For some reason, that didn't cross your mind.

"Right." you admit, very quietly. 

When your heart finally starts to slow down, you take some time to look at him. By the looks of it, he never went to sleep. He is fully clothed, half asleep, and a chair has clearly been moved away from the table, indicating that he sat there for a while. There is also a knife on the table.

"Were you guarding?" you ask him.

"No. I just couldn't sleep."

  * Call out his lie. (chapter 35)
  * Go back to sleep. (chapter 36)




	35. Chapter 35

"That's a lie." you frown, "How long have you been up?"

He chuckles dryly: "Too long, probably. Doesn't matter. I couldn't sleep anyway, I think."

"No?"

"No. I haven’t been able to sleep for some time now." he shrugs, "I feel like the moment I let my guard down, something will happen. I've been staying up here."

You ponder the situation.

"I think you should sleep." you conclude, "No matter how hard you try, you'll fall asleep eventually, and you won't be at your best if you exhaust yourself like this. If you really want to help, I need you to have your eyes open when it matters."

He looks you straight in the eyes. It's like he's looking for any traces of sarcasm or a joke. When he doesn't find them, his shoulders slump: "Yeah, fair enough. I just don't feel good leaving the place unguarded."

"We have cameras."

"Cameras won't alert us if the alarm is deactivated."

You think for a moment.

"It's only a few hours until morning." you murmur, "I've had some sleep. I could stay here for a while. I don't feel tired at all."

"Hypocrite." mumbles Gauche.

You give him a half-hearted glare and he surrenders.

"Fine, I'll go to bed." he groans, "If I find out you've fallen asleep, I will be forever disappointed in you."

"Do I look like I value your disappointment?"

"Yes, actually."

_ Damn it _ .

"Go to bed."

"I'm going! Jeez."

_ You've earned a point! _

_ Remember to keep track, you will need them later. _

_ Go to chapter 37. _


	36. Chapter 36

"Well, I see the kitchen is occupied." you mumble, feeling rather salty if you're being honest, "Good night."

Gauche gives you a look.

"What's the matter with you, eh?" he calls after you, "It's a stressful time for you, I get it, but do you  _ have  _ to be a dick?"

"Excuse me?"

"Excuse yourself. You're not acting like a man right now, you're acting like a toddler." he scoffs. You can see he's tired, and it's probably not helping his regular attitude in the slightest, but you're sincerely afraid of where this conversation is going.

You know where  _ you _ are going, though.

"I'm going back to sleep." you say, coldly, "As should you, before you stab someone when you inevitably wake up next morning with your face on the table and a knife in your hand."

Gauche is  _ so _ close to starting a fight here and now, you can see it, but he grits his teeth and sits down anyway: "Sure. Good night, Arclight. I liked you better when your bark had some bite."

You're too irritated to answer him.

You go back to bed, but you don't sleep.

_ Go to chapter 37 _ .


	37. Chapter 37

The surgeon is well on his way by the time you wake up. You go warn Michael, still in your sleepwear, and only then get dressed to welcome the good doctor.

He's a short, but good-looking man, with a trace of undeniable nervousness in his step that undoubtedly has to do with the fact that he and the two nurses that follow him were called here instead of an actual operating room, though Kaito has made sure to get an appropriately safe room ready.

You ask him if it's possible to remove the plastic arms  _ after _ anaesthesia and he assures you that it's preferable in this case. He doesn't explain why or what he means by  _ this case _ , but it's good enough for you.

You introduce him to Michael and you stay with him, by the doctor's recommendation, until he has to be put under.

It's 7:55 am. You are rather grateful that he made space on his undoubtedly busy schedule for you, though you suspect Kaito's influence had something to do with it.

You keep a hand on Michael's shoulder while they put the mask over his face. The  _ idea _ of being knocked unconscious, it seems, is what's most frightening to him, because he was absolutely in agreement with the surgery, but seemed to become agitated as soon as he realized he was going to be drugged for it.

You're not sure you want to linger on that.

Either way, with your presence, he seems to calm down enough to finally start breathing in the gas again and his eyes slide closed before he knows it.

You run into Yuma on your way out the room. Through the transparent door, you  _ could  _ watch the operation, but if you were allowed to be selfish once in your life, this would be it. Besides, Kaito and Droite are already there. He's in good hands.

Yuma also, with no hesitation, goes to stand at their side, though he looks as nervous as someone can look.

Brave kid.

The twins, Durbe, Haruto and Gauche should still be sleeping, because you haven't seen them all morning, but at 8 am it's understandable. You pass the sleeping quarters with a feeling of numbness in the center of your chest. You recognise it as loneliness. 

You pass by all the rooms. Only the twins and the Tenjou brothers share a room, and no one else wanted to pair up. The twins suggested Durbe share the room with them, but he declined, stating that he isn't used to waking up to someone else in the same room.

It's just as you're passing his bedroom that you hear a small thud from inside.

It could be nothing. It wasn't loud enough to be a person.

But still…

  * Check on him. (chapter 39)
  * Ignore it. (chapter 38)




	38. Chapter 38

You elect to ignore it. Something must’ve fallen.

You're not in the mood to deal with any disgruntled ex-emperors so early in the morning, even if he  _ is  _ a relatively sane one. So you just speed up a little, determined to shut yourself in your bedroom for an hour or two. You know someone used to mock you for that. You decide not to think about it.

You've only just reached your room, unfortunately, when you hear noises coming from a few rooms away. You recognise the twins' agitated voices right away. Someone, probably Ryoga, knocks just a little too loudly on whatever door they're standing at. 

A shiver runs up your spine like a rat, digging its claws into every bone, one by one.

Something is very wrong.

You fail to reach the room (the one you ignored only minutes ago) before the twins do, and you get to hear the first of their screams from just outside. It’s a scream of alarm more than anything, panic and disbelief. It makes your heart sink.

You almost don’t find the strength to look inside. If it is what you think it is, then it’s your fault. Isn’t it always, though?

Look inside, then.

You look, and you wish you hadn’t listened. 

Rio is fiddling with…  _ something _ , near the headboard, but she isn’t the focus of your attention. That honour would go to her brother, who seems to be holding someone up. 

But no, you realise when he moves away, there is something else holding Durbe's unnaturally coloured head up. It's disturbing. There's no sign of life on his face, but his head is raised about a foot above the mattress. Ryoga isn't holding him up. He's working on something at the back of his neck.

All the pieces fall into place.

When you passed this room, only minutes ago, you heard him struggle and did nothing. You know by the stillness of his chest that it's too late to offer any help now. You know by the agony in their voices that you will not be forgiven. You know by the trembling in your limbs that you will not forgive yourself either.

As your mind slips away into an abyss of shock and guilt, the note in red ink that someone attached to the doorknob remains unnoticed.

You don't need to see it to know who it was.

_ Dead End 4: Crossfire _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you were close.  
> You wanna try again?   
> I know better than to argue with you.
> 
> Go back.


	39. Chapter 39

You knock twice on the door.

No answer, for a few seconds. Then, a heavier thud. Someone frantically knocks back, against the headboard by the sound of it, and there's no doubt left in you that someone in there needs help. 

The door is locked, because of course it is. But you know how to bust hinges when you need to, and this one isn't the most solid door they have. 

It takes you too long to register what's happening in front of you.

Firstly, the room is empty, safe for Durbe. 

Secondly, he seems to be struggling against  _ something _ , but in the semi-darkness of the room, you can't see any dangers.

Thirdly, whatever it is is around his neck, and pretty damn tight judging by the strangled cry he lets out when he sees you enter the room.

Once these three things sink in, your frozen nerves finally move, and every single one of them is on the attack. You lunge forward, trying not to pull whatever is strangling him, but all the same figure out what it is. It's thread, as it turns out, thin but strong transparent thread you've seen somewhere before, made of some sort of plastic. One end is tied against the headboard, the other makes a sort of noose around Durbe's neck.

You scan the room for anything that can cut plastic like that. Nothing jumps to your attention. 

The clock is ticking and you are  _ painfully  _ aware of that.

Finally, though, Durbe decides to help you out. He takes one hand off the thread to point at a pile of papers on the desk.

You find a box cutter lying under the first two or three sheets.

"Okay…" you murmur, " _ Don't _ move."

He nods and goes still immediately afterwards, though his chest is beginning to spasm.

Trying to still your trembling hands, you lift the string from his neck as much as you can and  _ snap _ !

Durbe doubles over, wheezing and coughing, and the string falls in a sort of reverse Y shape from the headboard. The tip of the blade is looking a little red. It looks like you've nicked him. Still, nothing was damaged too badly.

  * Check that he's fine. (chapter 40)
  * Leave the room. Your work is done. (chapter 41)




	40. Chapter 40

You help him sit up straight again: "Can you breathe? Are you alright?"

He nods. Hoarsely, he explains what happened: "I woke up and-" he pauses to cough, "...and as soon as I tried to get up I got yanked back and I couldn't breathe anymore."

"Let me see your neck."

He leans over to the nightstand to turn on the light and bends his neck to expose it. You frown. There's a thin, angry red line running from under his ears to just under his chin. It doesn't look good, but…

"If you feel like you can breathe, you're probably fine." you state, "Maybe get your windpipe checked anyway, while we have a doctor here."

"He's here already?"

You nod: "The operation started ten minutes ago."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

He reaches for his glasses with a sigh. 

"I hope it goes well." he says, sincerely, as he fixes them over his nose. 

"Me too." you nod. Feeling a sudden need to change the subject, you add: "I think you should get out of this room until we figure out how…" 

You trail off. He understands anyway.

"Right." he rasps out.

You help him up. 

_ You’ve earned a point! _

_ Soon. _

_ I hope you’ve been getting points, my friend. _

_ Go to chapter 42. _


	41. Chapter 41

You determine that your presence is no longer needed. He can get himself checked later, if there are any lingering issues. 

You have bigger problems right now. Namely, the fact that someone managed to get in and set that trap without waking him, and you can think of exactly one person who would. 

Of course you've seen that kind of thread before. You've seen it at home.

You turn your back to him, determined to put as much distance between this room and yourself as you can.

_ Go to chapter 42. _


	42. Chapter 42

On your way out the room, though, something catches your eye. Tied to the doorknob with the same kind of string that was around his neck, you find a piece of paper, folded four times. You can see a hint of red ink.

Your stomach drops.

You almost don’t notice the twins coming until they appear in the doorway. You back off a few steps before you even realise it. 

Rio gives you a very strange look: “What… uh… what are you doing?”

Durbe looks  _ extremely  _ reluctant to break the news.

“I was attacked.” he explains, hoarsely, and the twins have their eyes on you right away. It's a little insulting, in all honesty.

"Not by me." you clarify, reaching out to the doorknob with trembling hands, which stirs confusion among the trio up until they see the note in your hand. You're squeezing it so tight that the square paper is turning into a triangle.

You rip it off the doorknob with one decisive snap and the three crowd around you as you slowly unfold it. You find your hand is shaking too much. 

You raise your eyes to them in a silent plead for help. Rio plucks the paper out of your hand and steps into the better-lit hallway.

She glances up at you and begins to read.

" _ To my dear brother, _ " she starts, as you try to ignore the spike of fear that just stabbed through your heart, " _ I am disappointed, and heartbroken, but never surprised, that you would run from me. I would have let you run, but you have taken away my most precious… _ " she hesitates, as if she wasn't sure she's reading it right, " _...doll. And your appalling behaviour persists as you barricade yourself in a tower and lock so many others in with you. Unfortunately, I could not find what I was looking for, but I did learn that poor Durbe's sleep is unexpectedly deep. _ "

Rio's voice falters a bit in the last few words. She adjusts the paper in her hands and keeps on reading anyway: " _ You are not untouchable. There will always be a weak link. I will find it and I will break it and you know promises such as this one aren't empty coming from me. I know where you are. I will always know where you are. You still have my contacts. There's only one thing you can do now if you don't want anyone else to be harmed. _ "

She pauses.

" _ Give her back _ ? He… he wrote  _ give her back _ ."

You have a sneaking sensation you know exactly who  _ she _ is.

"He wants Michael." you murmur, feeling like you can't raise your voice any higher or it will crack.

Silence falls in the hallway.

You take the paper back, turning it in your hands over and over. The trio remain silent, clearly waiting for you to say something. When you don't, Ryoga takes the lead: "What are we going to do?"

They all turn to you.

_ It's time. _

_ How many points did you earn? _

  * 0-2| _Go to chapter 43 ♤_
  * 3-6| _Go to chapter 46 ◇_
  * 7-9| _Go to chapter 49 ♧_




	43. Chapter 43

You look inside yourself and find your truth.

There's no saving Thomas. There is one thing you can do, to make sure he leaves you alone, though.

Two, actually.

"I have a plan." you declare, "But we'll have to wait until the surgery is done."

Fear rapidly drains the blood from their faces.

"You're not… you're not going to-" stutters Ryoga.

You interrupt him: "No. But I'll make him  _ think _ I'm going to. We need to draw him out somehow."

"This seems dangerous." frowns Rio.

"It isn't. Look, I'm not going to trade him, alright?" you snap. Why do they doubt you so much, you have to wonder? Since when?

The twins exchange a look.

Rio takes the lead: "Alright, maybe we should wait a bit. You know… assess the situation. Wait until after the surgery. Actually talk to people."

"What did you  _ think _ I was going to do?" you huff.

They are really starting to irritate you with this distrust thing. If it goes on like this, you'll be forced to act alone.

Good enough for you.

Be honest with yourself, you were not built for teamwork. Especially not with these people. They  _ will _ get in the way no matter what you choose to do. You know they will. Whatever you’re going to do, you must do it alone.

So you wait, outside the operating room, until you lose track of time entirely. Eventually, it’s over, though you could never say how long it's been. Before the anaesthetic wears off, you make sure to get Michael back to his room. You take some time to look at the new arms.

There is still some irritated skin around his shoulder that indicates it hasn't been too long since they were attached, but aside from that, they fit perfectly. Kaito took good care to adapt the measurements as many times as necessary. An admirable job, overall.

It poses a problem, though. 

Michael isn't going to be able to sustain heavier weights than he originally could, because that would still strain his remaining muscles. But his grip strength is going to be significantly improved, which could be bad news for you if he tries to stop you or hold you back.

Your mind is made.

So you've decided to confront Thomas. Good for you.

You will sneak out of the tower tonight and run until you're sure he's right behind you. Alright, there are two problems with that strategy.

The first is Michael. He's going to wake up very soon and unless you give him a  _ very _ good explanation he is never going to let you take him to Thomas.

But you've lied to him before.

The second, and more significant, problem is everyone else in the tower. You know the twins, and by extension Durbe, don't trust you as far as they can throw you. You've seen how suspicious Kaito is and how Droite and Gauche look at you and you know, you just  _ know _ , that Yuma, Michael and Haruto have had some nice long chats about you.

No one here trusts you.

So you will simply have to avoid being caught.

Easier said than done.

But come on. This is you we're talking about. You escaped a mansion inhabited by your raging psychopath of a brother. What's Heartland Tower? You know all the right codes. You know where the cameras are, you know how this system works, because you've been here before and, unlike Thomas, none of these people have the guts to kill you.

The plan is made. 

You decide to skip out on convincing Michael and just drop a sleeping pill or two in his tea. This might be bad for him. Whatever, he'll thank you later.

You make sure to put on a pity party, a nice little cabaret of lies and empty apologies, just to be left alone with Michael and, unfortunately, Yuma. You know everyone else went to sleep. Yuma included, and he didn't even need your help. He just talked until he tired himself out and his impeccable biological clock kicked in. He's a creature of habit.

You make sure there are no objects around Michael that he could use to make noise before you give him his cup of tea. He doesn't protest, eager to get some exercise in after too many days of forced rest. The doctor did say he should start with simple things, and raising a cup seems fair enough.

He's almost overjoyed to be able to lift his arms.

That's probably why he doesn't realise anything until after a few sips, when his eyelids start to grow heavy and he yawns soundlessly. It's midway through that first yawn that he freezes. He looks at the cup he just set down, and then right at you, and there's a million questions in his eyes. 

The one that stands out to you is  _ why? _

You put a finger to your lips and he has the confirmation he needed. He looks around frantically, to the completely unsuspecting Yuma, back to you, and to anything he could use to make enough noise to alert someone.

You don't let him. When you grab him, you make sure to grab him by the wrists, so his increased grip strength won't be a problem.

You refuse to look him in the eyes until well after they've closed and your grip on his wrists is the only thing holding his arms up. If you had, you would have seen how terrified he was, of  _ you _ , for once. And you're much too cowardly to bear it.

_ He will thank me later _ , you keep telling yourself as you carry him much like you did when you escaped. Only this time, instead of running from danger, you're running directly at it.

As predicted, everyone is sleeping by now.

No one interrupts you as you creep out the front door and descend, step by step, floor by floor, until you reach the only entrance you know to be unguarded.

Only, when you step out, you're not alone.

"Where are you going?" 

Kaito stands before you in the kind of stance that suggests he isn't moving unless  _ you _ move him.

You feel your fingers dig into Michael's side.

"I have a plan." you say, like a broken record, because that's how bad your excuses are.

Kaito frowns: "And why does that plan involve sneaking out at night with Michael? Who is unconscious, if I'm seeing this right."

You are once again caught without a ready answer. 

You've already decided that you're taking him to the meeting with Thomas.

The question is, then what?

  * Give him Michael. (chapter 44)
  * Use him as bait and kill Thomas. (chapter 45)



_ This is the final decision of this path. _


	44. Chapter 44

You grit your teeth: "I'm ending this. One way or another."

His frown deepens and you could swear his already translucent skin becomes even paler: "You're going to sacrifice him." he murmurs. It's not a question. He gathers his wits and speaks out again: "And then what? What were you going to do? Come back here? Drop off the radar?"

" _ After _ doesn't matter right now." 

"It will matter very soon. But let me tell you, right now, if you go through with this, you'd better hope I never see you around me or anyone in Heartland ever again." he warns you, and you know he's getting angry no matter how flat his tone is: "Because if I ever see you again, I'll consider you a criminal on the same level as Thomas."

You almost laugh: "And if I don't? You'll just forgive and forget? No, this is going to go one of two ways. Either I give him Michael, no one else gets hurt, and I am apparently exiled, or I surrender, I never see either of my brothers again, someone dies for real next time, and God only knows where you send me. I'm no fool, Kaito. You're not going to forgive me no matter what. So I might as well do you a favour and make sure Thomas doesn't kill anyone. You wouldn't want anyone in this tower to get hurt. Would you?"

The space between your question and his reply is less than a second, but it's long enough to tell you what's going through his head.

"I don't want either of you to get hurt, either." he whispers.

You hold Michael a little tighter: "Oh, I won't get hurt. And you've never even spoken to Michael. The only reason you're so horrified is that you're projecting, Kaito."

"No." he replies, but not as firmly as he normally would. The cracks are so thin, but you know him well enough to see through them. You just have to drive the nail a little deeper.

"You look at us and-"

"No."

"-you see yourself and you see Haruto, and-"

"Don't."

"-and you keep telling yourself that  _ if it were you, you'd never do this _ and all that."

"Chris-"

"But you've failed to consider that I am not you and  _ this _ …" you hold up Michael a little higher, "...is not your brother."

"It doesn't matter!" he snaps, "I won't let you do this."

You tilt your head: "Really?" 

He stands his ground. 

You set Michael down, gently, and it doesn't escape you how Kaito's eyes follow him. You can use that.

Before he completely reaches the ground, you let him go and lunge at Kaito. That split second of delay in his reaction is enough for you to get the first hit in, square in his chest. It's enough to knock him down, but it's not enough to knock him out.

And, to make matters worse, unlike Michael, he can yell. He won't until he has to, though, a fatal flaw of his, so all you have to do is take him down in one hit.

He recovers from the first punch quickly, trying to take advantage of his position to kick your legs out from under you. You jump to avoid the move and land just beside his head. Perfect.

With one kick in the right spot, he stops moving.

For now.

Oh, you're really in it now.

You can almost  _ hear _ the clock ticking down. You run back to Michael and carry him away into the shadows. That lost you some time, which means that, according to your calculations, there is a possibility that he will wake up before the exchange is over. As long as he's not in your arms, though, that won't be a problem.

You run for maybe ten minutes before you finally start to feel the familiar presence of your stalker. You turn to enter a public park. It seems like an appropriate place to speak to your brother for the last time.

You stop in the middle of the park, but you don't put Michael down yet. You feel like it should be a bit more personal than just leaving him there. As a proper goodbye and all.

The park is wide and allows you to see clearly in all directions for a decently long distance, meaning neither Thomas nor Kaito will be able to sneak up on you. But it's been almost five minutes since you got here and you're getting nervous. Your entire plan relies on Thomas showing up. If he doesn't, you're on the run with a kid who's bound to wake up and wake up angry eventually and who has a now unnaturally strong grip on one side and a whole squad of people you'd rather not see when they're angry on the other.

" _ Thomas!! _ " you call out, as loudly as you can, " _ Come here!!! You've won!! I give up, alright? _ "

Silence.

"I give up." you repeat, only to yourself.

Yet again some little part of you whines  _ are you really going to do this? _ Yet again it goes ignored. Yes, of course you're going to do this. There's no going back now. 

_ There's no going back now. _

It hits you, only at this moment, that you have backed yourself into a corner. There's no more room for second thoughts or forgiveness. No one you know is ever going to trust you again.

You hope Michael doesn't wake up.

You begin to hope he  _ never _ wakes up. Never finds out that you betrayed him, and never have to suffer through that again. But you fear the repercussions of that. You could poison him or injure him just before you give him to Thomas, but when it takes effect, you're going to be in trouble again and so is everyone else.

No, Michael is a necessary sacrifice if you want to put this behind you, and a  _ living _ sacrifice at that. There's no other way.

You feel a kind of panic begin to climb up the walls of your stomach as whatever remains of your protective instinct desperately cries out that you  _ can’t _ . 

It's fine, you tell yourself.

All you have to do is stop seeing the thing in your arms as your little brother. 

But it never works like that, now does it?

Just as you begin to fear for yourself, you finally hear measured, but somewhat eager footsteps in the grass behind you.

"I see you got my note." smiles Thomas.

You look in his eyes and you find nothing worth saving. No trace of your brother. Just a mad yearning and a terrifying zeal. 

You can't answer him.

He steps closer to you and you step back out of instinct more than anything. He frowns: "What, are you going to run now? I'll be angry. You've seen what happens when I'm angry."

Yes, you have, indeed. Too many times.

His grin widens: "Come on then." he encourages, extending his arms to you, "I have to fix her. Look, look, look what you've done. I have so much work to do. I'd like to get started before tomorrow."

Just the way he's talking makes you want to run. But you know you're not the object of his fixation and, if you're being honest, it's making you feel quite a bit better. 

Well? 

You can run.

All you have to do is get rid of the extra weight.

Hesitantly, you step forward and hold out your arms and the thing nestled between them. You refuse to look down at it.

It turns out to be a mistake as soon as Thomas takes hold of it, though, because all his stalling and your little fight with Kaito burned the time you had before the drugs wore off and, before you know it, there's a cold mechanical hand on your forearm and it's squeezing much too tightly for comfort.

You follow the line of the arm up to the eyes you've refused to meet for hours now, and all your resolve falters. You have never seen so much blind panic and confusion in one person-  _ thing _ ,  _ doll _ , not  _ person _ , don't think of it, just don't. Thomas tugs it away: "See what you've done? Ah, this is gonna be a pain to fix!"

The grip is unyielding, though, and bruising to say the least. The doll is screaming at you without a voice. You refuse to read its lips. You try to pry those mechanical fingers off, but it's easier said than done. Thomas sighs angrily. Shifting his position to keep one arm wrapped securely around the doll's waist, he reaches into his pocket with the other.

"I didn't want to do this." he laments, producing a rag with a familiar strong smell. Some part of you registers that so many sleeping drugs at once are probably not good for a single person to endure in one day. All the other parts are busy screaming that  _ the doll won't let go _ , though, and that little voice goes unnoticed.

It takes less time than you'd expect for the doll to slump in Thomas's arms and you breathe a sigh of relief when the iron clamp around your wrist finally eases up. That is going to leave a bruise, you just know it.

Thomas finally looks at you again and smiles almost pleasantly: "I knew we could clear this little misunderstanding. I think we'd better part ways now. I hear someone's very angry with you."

Your jaw clenches without your command.

"Where will you go now?"

"I can't tell you." he shrugs, "Away from here, that's for certain."

Shifting again to free his right hand, he extends it to you: "Best of luck to you. We're both on the run now."

In the distance, you hear a helicopter. You scan the sky behind you. Two helicopters. You can't see them, but you can hear them so clearly. And you know exactly who they're looking for.

You don't get a chance to shake Thomas's hand or say goodbye to him. When you turn around, he's gone, and he's taken his doll with him.

You are well and truly alone now.

Better start running.

_ Ending 1: Traitor On The Run _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that's just cold.   
> Do you want some warmth?
> 
> _  
>  Go to the Ending 1 Epilogue.  
>  _


	45. Chapter 45

You feel your shoulders slump.

One question from Kaito and whatever fragile barrier you'd put up cracks and crumbles.

“I can’t save them both..." you murmur, "...can I?"

It's a reality you must learn to come to terms with. Some part of you still believes that everything can go back to whatever pathetic surrogate of  _ normal _ you used to have, but don't listen to it. It's only going to make it worse.

Kaito shifts almost imperceptibly. You can see you’ve made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t know.” he says, earnestly, “But you can save one.”

“I’m not even sure of that at this point.” 

He shakes his head: “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not giving him Michael.” you declare, once and for all, “I’m never going to give him Michael. But I don’t want any chance that he could come back for us. Ever. There’s no saving him.”

“You mean…”

You nod and turn your side to him. Kaito’s gaze moves to your waist, just under your coat, where he can just make out the gleam of a thin, long blade. You raise your haunted eyes to him and you know he won’t stop you. But he will try, bless his heart, until he’s sure you’ve made a decision.

“Chris, are you sure?”

There he goes.

You can’t afford indecision right now. You nod. 

His tense shoulders relax a little.

“I’m sorry it came to this.” he says, sincerely, “What if I did it for you?”

You shake your head: "Don't follow me. He won't show up."

"Unless he doesn't see me."

"He will."

He shoots you a dubious glance.

You sigh heavily: "I'll be back before you know it.  _ We _ 'll be back. But not before he's dead."

You leave before Kaito can object.

You run for maybe ten minutes before you finally start to feel the familiar presence of your stalker. You turn to enter a public park. It seems like an appropriate place to speak to your brother for the last time.

You hold Michael a little tighter. If someone had asked you, even just a week ago, to choose between your brothers, you would have answered, rather proudly, that you would never. Now, you're not so sure.

But you were forced into this, right? There’s nothing else you could do. You have no choice left at this point; you can save one or lose both. You  _ really _ hope Michael won’t hold drugging him against you, but all the same you’re not sure you would blame him if he did.

You should probably put him down. You need a free hand to grab the knife, and you need him to be out of the way before you even think about attacking Thomas. He will have to turn his back to you eventually, right? The back seems like a good place to strike, doesn’t it? It would be appropriate payback, don’t you think?

You should put him down, but you can’t. You know, this and when you carried him out the first time is the closest you’ve been to him in about ten years, and he’s not even conscious this time. You could do better. You could have done better, more like. Of course, you can still do better than that, provided you both survive. Provided you don’t accidentally stab the wrong brother, because, oh right, your mind cruelly reminds you,  _ these are your brothers _ .

Forget about that, why don’t you? It’s not going to help you now.

In fact, why don’t you forget everything about Thomas except for the fact that he’s the maniac who mutilated your brother? It’s gonna make it a lot easier for you.

Oh, but it seems you don’t have time for that. He’s here. 

“I see you got my note.” he smiles.

Some little part of you still insists that you can help him, but look at yourself. Your jaw is stiff and your leg is shaking, and you hope he doesn't notice, but oh, he did, you know he did. He's smiling. Do you recognise that smile? That is the smile of a stranger. An enemy. Don't think of him as anything else.

You nod wordlessly.

Probably seeing you're not in the mood for conversation, Thomas extends his arms: "Well?"

You can't afford to hesitate, my friend. Those drugs won't last forever. There. You set Michael into his arms as gently, but as quickly, as you can. Your chest feels cold.

You take a step back.

"Thank you." smiles Thomas, almost genuinely, "I knew we could clear this little misunderstanding. I have so much work to do." he mutters, frowning when his gaze falls to Michael's new arms.

Alright, you're all set. You feel the weight of the blade against your side. And a tight knot in your stomach.

"Now go." you command, "And promise never to take anyone else again."

"Pinky promise." cackles Thomas, almost childishly. He used to laugh like that when he was a child- no, stop that. You don't know him. He's not family. He's the one who's going to take the only family you have left from you if you don't get rid of him, now. You know this. Why is your heart stuttering like that?

All you have to do is one clean stab and then you're good. Why are you so indecisive? One hit. If you get the right spot, he'll be dead before he knows what hit him.

Unless, of course, you'd rather draw it out a little. See how he likes being unable to move and talk. No? You wouldn't? Oh well.

You swallow,

“Go.” you repeat, “Now.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” he scoffs, “Goodbye.”

Finally,  _ finally _ , he turns his back to you. Now would be the right time to grab that knife. The handle feels strangely warm under your fingers and you’re sure it’s gonna be a whole lot warmer when it’s covered in blood. 

Go on.

You lunge at Thomas, aiming for the center of his back. You notice a moment too late that his foot is turned, in the perfect position to turn around on a dime.

Your aim fails you. Thomas dives just in time to avoid the strike aimed at his back, but not in time to avoid the slash at his shoulder. 

He yells in pain and a whole lot of rage and you know you're in trouble. Thankfully, the extra care he takes to put down Michael (like he's made of porcelain, though thankfully no part of him is) gives you just enough time to step back and avoid his first attack. But the second follows it fast. 

Thomas immediately goes for your wrist. He rips the knife out of your hand and throws it behind him. He nearly slashes Michael’s throat, and that’s enough to distract him for a split second. Unfortunately, it’s also enough to distract you. And Thomas recovers much faster than you once he’s made sure his  _ doll _ is safe. 

He aims directly at your throat, and you’re not fast enough to stop him from wrapping his hands around your neck. The momentum of his attack pushes you to the ground. He straddles your chest now, but he only managed to pin one of your arms down. The other fights with all your might to  _ get him off of you _ . 

You are severely outmatched. 

The more your lungs burn, the less you can see, the more you wonder why he always goes for the neck first. A sort of beastly instinct, perhaps. All you’re certain of is that you can’t breathe. You’re unarmed, outmatched, you don’t have backup, and that damn uncertainty still hasn’t left you. You don’t even have the guts to kill him, do you?

Well, soon you won’t have guts left to speak of at all. Did you know that the embalming process involves removing them? That’ll be you.

You knew, of course. You know all of this. It's all coming back to you as the flow of blood to your head begins to slow more and more.

It’s so slow that, when the grip is finally released, and the blood returns all at once, you feel like your head is going to explode. You cough loudly, struggling to move and get the weight off your chest, and… you do. Vaguely, you register Thomas toppling over to your side and falling on his stomach. You realise only when you turn and look back at him that his jacket looks a bit more prominent and a lot more red than it did before. 

The tip of the long blade you took with you, stabbed directly into what looks to be his spine, has sliced through his torso like butter and come out the front, lifting the jacket off his chest without breaking the fabric.

One metallic hand still on the hilt, the other on Thomas’s shoulder, Michael stares silently at the man beneath him with something unreadable in his expression. When he turns his eyes on you, it’s a lot more clear.

_ I don’t feel as bad as I should _ , say his tired eyes.

And who knows?

One more betrayal, you might be next.

_ Ending 2: Cain, Cain, and Cain _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would watch my back if I were you, before you find a knife in it.  
> Mh?  
> Do you want to start over?
> 
> _  
>  Start over.  
>  _


	46. Chapter 46

Your breath stops dead in your throat. Without even realising it, you’ve crumpled the paper in your hands once again. Pure, blind panic claws at your guts.

You turn to the trio: “We have to leave. Now.  _ Right now _ .”

“Wait-” Ryoga tries to stop you, but you’re already well on your way to the operating room or wherever the hell Kaito is. This is a situation. 

You pass by Haruto having breakfast and elect to ignore his puzzled expression entirely. You don’t have time to explain to one person, this calls for a meeting and a very abrupt goodbye. Your mind is racing. Where will you go? Somewhere else. Take Michael with you. Hopefully never be found again. You can’t be found. You won’t escape a second time. And it was by pure luck that you found Durbe when you did. They won’t escape again either. 

When you  _ finally  _ find Kaito, he’s busy talking to Droite and Gauche, sitting on the wrong sides of him yet again. Yuma is just staring at nothing. You would be more concerned if only you weren’t losing your mind. 

“Everyone!” you call out. Really, you mean Kaito and anyone who wants to listen in. 

Predictably, that’s everyone.

“Thank you.” you say, sincerely, as soon as you’ve calmed down enough, “Thank you for letting us stay here. But we have to go. As soon as possible.”

“What’s all this about?” asks Gauche, furrowing his brow. 

You pass him the note. Kaito and Droite silently read it over his shoulder. 

“Oh…” whispers Droite, “This is…”

“Durbe was attacked, and it won’t be the last time something like that happens. We can’t stay with all of you.” you explain.

She stands up: “Now, hold on. Where would you even go? Where could you go that would be safer than here?”

“I don’t know!” you snap, “I don’t know. Somewhere he doesn’t know about.”

“Wait, wait, no!” 

Oh, great, Yuma joined the discussion.

“We have to stick together. If we don’t, of course someone will get hurt. But that goes for you too!”

That is so typical of him, now isn’t it? You admire him sometimes, but dear God, is he a pain to have as an opponent. You know you won’t win this debate completely. All you can do is compromise.

“We can stay in contact.” you propose, “Just as long as you’re not with us.  _ None _ of you. I’m sorry I involved you in the first place.”

The general sound of disagreement that comes from all sides of you now includes the Terror Trio and Haruto, because you weren’t in enough trouble already. No, of course they’ll say it was no trouble for them, but you know better. You are a destructive force, you should know. 

No matter what they say, you know better. 

No matter how they spin it, you know they’d be safer if you were far away from them. You only wish the same applied to Michael, but no. He’s right at the center of the gravity well, but you’re okay with being pulled in. 

“We  _ will _ stay in contact.” Kaito decides, “Establish a checkup every twelve hours at least. If you fail to send us the signal, help will be on the way.”

“ _ Kaito _ !”

“Not right now, Yuma.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief. Kaito is a lot more understanding than he lets on. Or maybe it’s just you. Either way, you are well aware of his influence on the group. This is promising.

One by one, everyone crumbles and agrees to the compromise. As long as Yuma can stay in the tower and monitor you, because that was the only thing that made him shut up.

Now you just have to find a suitable place. 

You do, eventually, with much help from Kaito and the trio, find a currently unoccupied small house way up north. 

It will be colder, but as long as you stay inside, you should be fine.

You agree to wait for Michael to wake up first, if only to avoid him waking up God knows where and freaking out, but those few hours before the anaesthetic wears off are well and truly painful. You can do nothing but pace around, stop at his bedside, check his pulse, exchange a couple words with someone, rinse and repeat.

Finally, though, he does wake up, and you explain as concisely (and tactfully, you hope) as you can that you have to take him away to some other place.

Once he sees the note, he agrees without further complaint.

You say your goodbyes.

You only realise how tall Haruto is getting when he goes for a hug. You pat his back rather awkwardly and think that maybe time really  _ is _ just slipping by. He and Michael exchange some words you don't hear and you think you see him giving Michael something. Like candy, or something like that.

Yuma also goes in for a hug with you, directly around your chest, because he's not tall enough to reach over your shoulder. He  _ has _ grown taller since five years ago, though, significantly taller. When he hugs Michael, he looks absolutely overjoyed to be able to hug him back, though his arm movements are still rather clumsy. He accidentally hits Yuma's shoulder on the way into the hug, but they laugh it off. You look at them and you sincerely hope that one day they'll be able to do that again. Hug, that is. It doesn't make you uncomfortable anymore. You just want to see that pure joy on their faces again.

The twins don't even touch you, but you don't expect them to. They just look worried. You promise to take care of yourself and Michael. Rio's answer: "You'd better."

Durbe, Droite and Gauche offer a polite handshake and a few friendly words, and little else. They never were the best at goodbyes. Still, you feel them warmer than usual.

Finally, Kaito shakes your hand too. Neither of you let go, though, as though your hands were magnets, until he gives up and pulls you in for a very brief hug as well. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Haruto nodding approvingly. The hug is extremely short, but you still feel so much better when you pull away.

You leave in a helicopter, securing Michael's wheelchair next to your seat. He looks, at one time, nervous and serene, and you're not quite sure how he's conveying that in his expression alone, but then, he always was more expressive than you. Your eyes are dead to a stranger. You know that.

In an attempt to banish your uneasiness, you ask Michael to practice with the new arms and maybe brush up on his English sign language. He never did learn Japanese sign language. But then, neither did you.

For the rest of the trip, you see him silently mouthing letters, words and expressions, trying to wrangle his new hands into something remotely comprehensible. He seems to get better over the course of the helicopter ride alone. He does have to stop eventually, though, to avoid straining his fragile shoulder muscles. The skin around the prosthetic is still slightly irritated, but you can see it fading.

Good.

The house is small but comfortable and, being a flat, it's entirely accessible for Michael without the need for your assistance. That doesn’t mean you're planning on leaving him alone, but it does mean that if it should occur he will be able to take care of himself for a bit. Call for help if needed. You really hope it isn't. 

And, after a week there, you were almost starting to lose that all-encompassing fear that's been following you around. Until, that is, you found a message from Thomas's old number, containing nothing but a single picture. A picture of  _ you _ , to be precise, from when you went out to buy food last night.

It hits you all at once.

He knows. He's seen you. You were alone. Michael was alone. It could've ended badly for you. You should have been more careful. You should have set up deliveries, or put up a better alarm, or even taken Michael with you. But no, you reason, if you take him with you, what if he's waiting for you when you get home? If someone's there to send out the alarm- but that would put Michael in danger, and you're not willing to risk that for help that won't arrive in time to save him.

You don't show him the message.

But he sees, clearly, that something is wrong.

One day, while you're sitting in almost comfortable silence in the living room, Michael turns his eyes on you. He gets your attention by tapping on the arm of his chair. He's much better with his hands now, and you can easily hold a conversation.

" _ What's the matter _ ?" he signs, and ends the sentence with a frown. Like ending a text with a frowny face.

"I don't know what you mean." you mumble, but that's a lie and you both know it.

" _ Does he know where we are? _ "

The question catches you off-guard. Either Michael is very smart, or very nosy, or both. He  _ is _ friends with Yuma.

Is there any point in lying to him?

Probably not.

Will you try?

Oh, yes.

"No." you assure him, "We're safe here, Michael."

Lie.

He furrows his brow: " _ Do you feel safe _ ?"

You hesitate. 

"Yes."

_ Lie _ .

You can almost  _ hear _ him calling out the lie, and you haven't heard his voice in a month. Michael shakes his head a little. He seems pensive.

Then…

" _ I'll make tea for you _ ."

"Excuse me?"

" _ May I make tea for you? _ " he asks, perhaps regretting his original statement.

You give him a look: "Why?"

He looks away for a moment: " _ Please _ .  _ I just want some normal _ ."

You feel your heart squeeze a bit. Right. There has been absolutely nothing normal in his life for a while now. Not even you. Certainly not you, who do essentially nothing but cook. Even  _ that _ isn't normal at this point. Your completely silent meals aren't normal. No matter how hard you try, it always feels like there should be another chair at your table. Another voice in the house.

Making tea was kind of his thing, for a time. Michael had a moment alone, then, to make something for everybody and pretend they were fine.

You all pretended. You were all on thin ice.

And in the end, the ice broke from under you.

Can you really deny him that little semblance of normalcy?

  * Accept. (chapter 47)
  * Refuse. (chapter 48)



_ This is the final decision of this path. _


	47. Chapter 47

You look him in the eyes and your resolve crumbles.

"Fine." you concede, "There should be a box of tea in the cupboard. The one beside the sink."

Michael's face lights up with a smile: " _Thank you_!" he gestures, but just as he's turning around you think you catch something odd in his eyes. But did you really? You decide not to question it. Since when do you know him well enough to determine when he's acting strange? You're ready to bet you've acted just as weird in the past few days out of stress alone.

Leave him be.

A chill shoots straight up your spine when you realise that you are alone now. At least the house isn't quiet. You can hear clinks of jars, spoons and the kettle being set, but no voices to go along with it. It's driving you insane.

But no, no, let Michael do his thing in peace, you remind yourself, just give him five minutes.

Five minutes is all he needs.

But your anxiety becomes completely unbearable around minute three. 

" _Michael!_ " you call out, " _Remember your medicine!_ "

You wait with bated breath for the maybe tenth of a second it takes Michael to process and respond. He knocks on the table twice, the agreed signal for _okay I got it_. It makes you feel marginally better, and you hope you can hold out for just a couple more minutes. You have to keep reminding yourself not to barge into the kitchen, in spite of that terrifying feeling that creeps up your spine, digging its claws between your ribs. 

Two minutes.

You can do this.

But if he takes even five seconds longer than you expect then no, you can't do this. You're a mess, you know that? Let the kid breathe for a few minutes. You haven't been in separate rooms since you got the text. Even so, are you really safe if you stick together? Is everyone you left back in Heartland really safe? You can't be sure of that.

Sure, the check-in is working. But if one day it doesn't…

You are thankfully saved from spiralling too far down into the abyss of your anxieties by the timely arrival of Michael. And tea. It looks to be some kind of very aromatic chamomile, presumably because he noticed your anxiety was through the roof. He's considerate like that. He pours two cups for the two of you and pushes one towards you.

You thank him with a nod of your head and drink a couple sips so quickly that you almost burn your tongue. Michael, on the other hand, seems to be taking his time. You know there's no sugar in his cup, and yet he won't stop stirring it, with a lost expression on his face. He looks almost regretful. But you know how memories get to him sometimes, and leave him be.

He taps his finger on the table rhythmically. It's something he used to when he needed to count. One tap for every object, or every second, or whatever he was counting. He hasn't done that in a while.

At one point, he turns towards you, the first time he's looked you in the eyes since he returned, and all your nerves and muscles lock in place. For a moment, there, you saw a stranger. The next moment, though, it's all Michael again, and he pushes his cup away. 

He waves to get your attention.

"Yes, Michael?"

He brings a hand to his chest: " _Sorry_."

Your stomach drops. 

“Sorry for what, Michael?”

No answer.

“Michael. Sorry for _what_?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice from cracking. But it cracks, alright, and Michael looks down with gritted teeth like he's holding himself back from running to you. You realise a few things. One: he looks regretful. Two: he hasn't touched his teacup yet. Three: your breath should be speeding up with how anxious you feel, but it's slowing down exponentially instead.

It's not hard to put one, two and three together. 

" _Michael!_ " you gasp, standing from your chair only to collapse two steps later. You fall to your knees before him, grasping the sides and the arms of the wheelchair in a useless attempt to stay upright. You can’t find his eyes. He won’t look at you. You think you’re saying something. It might just be _why?_ You wouldn’t know. You can’t hear yourself over the ringing in your ears. 

You can see Michael, though, when he signs _sorry_ once again. 

The last thing you can feel is him gently moving you away. Your eyes are already closed, though. Maybe it wasn't even him.

When you open your eyes, you're lying face up on the floor. Your position suggests that someone took care to move you so you wouldn't hurt yourself. 

The headache hits you just as soon as your memories do. 

"Michael?" you murmur.

Complete silence. 

You sit up a little too quickly. It's like being stabbed in the temple. You channel your pain to make your voice as loud as you can: " _Michael!!_ "

Your only answer is your own echoing voice. You yell out his name a few more times, before, during and after your terrible struggle to stand up, and the results don't change. The sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach tells you he isn't here anymore. 

You stop screaming for him in favour of putting all your energy into standing up. It takes every bit of strength you had. What did he put in your tea and where did he even find it?

Speaking of tea, Michael's cup sits untouched in the exact same place it was before. But something is different. Beside the now cold tea there's a hastily folded scrap of paper, written with a pencil that was already on the table before. Clearly, whoever left this note didn't have much time to write it.

Your theory is confirmed when you unfold it, with trembling fingers, and you recognise the kind of handwriting that Michael has when he needs to take quick notes. You've seen it over and over in his school papers; stilted, irregular, with some words crossed out in a moment of regret. It's barely readable, but there's no mistaking what he's saying.

_Dear Chris,_

 _I'm very sorry to leave_ ~~ _so unceremoniously_~~ ~~_without a goodbye_~~ _like this. I'm also terribly sorry for the tranquilliser. If I'd explained what I was planning to do, you would have_ _ ~~locked me up somew~~_ _forbidden me from leaving. I couldn't say any of this to you before, so I'll do it now. Again, I'm sorry._

_I know you were contacted by Thomas. I know because you weren’t the only one. He wouldn't stop texting me. First he said he was sorry, and I ignored it. But then, when he saw I wasn't replying, he kept on sending more and more messages and, somewhere down the line, the apologies became threats. I ignored those too. I was frightened, but I didn't think he knew where we were._

_But those threats started to include you. He sent me a picture of you, from three days ago, and I couldn't help myself anymore. I replied to the messages. Suddenly he was acting sweet again. I told him to leave us alone. That didn't work. I_ _~~begged~~ _ _asked him to leave_ _you_ _alone, and that worked. He promised if I went back with him, you'd never see him again. I don't know that I can trust him, but it's the only option I have._

His handwriting gets even more frantic after that point. You think the round stain that has smudged the ink on _have_ might be a tear, and you have to force yourself to keep reading.

_I'm sorry for everything. The others must be on their way by the time you wake up; the check-in is in fifty minutes from now and you're sure to miss it. When they arrive, tell them I'm sorry. I don't want to lie and say I'm not afraid; I am. But, as much as you all feared for my safety, I feared for yours, and I've_ _~~been a burden~~ _ _put you all in danger for long enough. If this is what I must do to ensure you're safe, I have no regrets._

_There's too much I wanted to tell you, but I don’t have the time ~~or the voice~~ to do it. _

_Again, I'm sorry, but this is goodbye._

_Don't look for me, please._

~~_I love you._ ~~ _I wish you well._

_Michael_

  
  


You stare, soundlessly, at the note in your hands. Your lips are parted, your throat burns like you've been screaming for hours, but no sound comes out. And, when it does, it's not a sound a human should make. 

You want to scream, so badly.

All that comes out, though, is a pathetic whine as you slam your hands down on the table to stop yourself from collapsing again. There's usually nothing on your mind when you have a headache like this. Today, instead, it's a storm of words from the note, the image of Michael when you first found him, the frantic race out the house, all your doubts and your fears and the word _FAILURE_ , stamped over and over on you, from your forehead to your arms to your clothes, burned into the inside of your eyelids where you can always see it no matter what.

You've failed. 

You don't know how long it's been, but when the reinforcements arrive, they find you wandering in the snow with a crumpled up note clutched tightly in your hand and your eyes red from slowly freezing tears.

You know only one thing.

No matter what the note said, you will never stop searching.

_Ending 3: Needle in a Haystack_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My condolences.  
> I don't think you'll ever find him again on this path.  
> Do you want to restart?
> 
> _  
> Start over.  
> _


	48. Chapter 48

Your eyes narrow. It sounds like such an innocent request, but Michael looks strange. He's averting his eyes now; the longer you take to reply, the more nervous he gets.

Something is up. You need to investigate.

“Sure. Let’s go to the kitchen.” you agree. As you thought, he looks disappointed. He wanted to be alone. Why? You suppose it could just be that your constant presence is smothering him, but you know he doesn’t usually like to be left alone. So, something is wrong.

Michael doesn’t talk to you at all while the water boils. He doesn’t move, either. You attempt conversation twice, but he looks distant. Like his mind is somewhere else entirely. You have to wonder what’s wrong. Where his mind is. You hope it’s not stuck in a bad place, and you _really_ hope it’s not stuck in a good place, because that has never made him feel any better. 

You drink the tea in silence.

Michael drinks the whole cup in one very slow sip and sets it back down without ever looking at you. Enough is enough.

“Michael.”

He raises his head.

“Is everything alright?” 

He nods. “ _I’m fine_.”

Well, that’s a lie if you’ve ever seen it. And you have seen lies before, more than you’d like. You get the feeling that something’s come up and that, for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to tell you. You also get the feeling that you should dig until you find it.

“Why are you lying to me?”

He flinches. You’ve struck something. He gestures, a bit frantically, that “ _I’m feeling as well as I could_.”

Without meeting your eyes, he continues: “ _I’m not fine, but nothing is wrong_.”

Rather ambiguous, but you think you get what he’s trying to say. 

“I know.” you sigh, “But I have this feeling that you know something I don’t.”

Michael narrows his eyes: “ _Me too. You know something_.”

He switched from being defensive to being aggressive, a sure sign that he’s hiding something. But he’s right. So are you. The only thing you can think of is…

“A secret for a secret?” you suggest. 

Michael hesitates. He shakes his head _no_. 

“Why not?”

“ _I can’t tell you_ .” he signs, “ _You won’t like it_.”

You sigh heavily: “Michael, I don’t like _any_ of this. But, if there is something that bothers you that much, I'd rather know."

He shakes his head again.

" _I'd like to go to sleep_." he signs, tiredly. 

Right. You leave him alone when he has to get ready for bed. He really wants to get you off his back for some reason. But as long as you monitor him, it should be fine.

"Go on." you nod. 

He disappears into his bedroom. The moment you can’t see him anymore, you get a chilling sensation. Like someone dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It makes you want to curl in on yourself and disappear. But when doesn’t it? 

You decide to give it some time. Give him some space. But the feeling doesn’t leave you, and your guts begin to twist and turn painfully just under your skin. It hurts. You’re not sure why, but your instincts are all simultaneously screaming at you that _Michael_. That’s it. You don’t know what he’s doing, or where the feeling is coming from, but you’re sure it has to with him.

It just won’t leave you alone. And, while you don’t especially want to invade your brother’s privacy, you do want to make absolutely sure that the instinct that keeps screaming at you that he’s about to do something very, very bad is wrong. He's going to leave his cellphone unattended eventually. You’ve noticed he looks at it like it’s going to bite him. 

So you wait, patiently, until he goes to sleep, because he does, eventually, though not before checking the phone at least four times. 

When you’re sure he’s fast asleep, you reach for the phone as quietly as you can and creep out the room. Just outside the door. Just a few minutes. Just to check that everything is fine. 

He doesn’t know that you know how to unlock it. 

Immediately, a notification for a still unread message catches your eye. And the number is familiar.

**_1 New Message_ **

_That’s what you said two days ago._

Your heart jumps in your throat. You open the chat and scroll up and your breathing speeds up with every single message. They date back to almost a week ago and, among the sea of messages (most of which are from Thomas, with no reply), you see the exact same picture of yourself you received yesterday. It’s after that point that Michael starts replying.

_How did you get that picture?_

_Oh, there you are_

_I thought you couldn’t answer_

_Are you alright?_

_No thanks to you._

_Do you know where we are?_

_Do those arms hurt?_

_Thomas please_

_Do you know where we are?_

_I’ll find out soon enough._

_Just as soon as Chris is back home_

_You don’t have to worry_

_Please_

_Please leave us alone_

_I don’t want to see you_

_Why would you say that?_

_Don’t worry_

_I’m on my way_

_No._

_No, Thomas, please_

_Don’t come here_

_Leave us alone._

_Why would I?_

_Please_

_At least leave Chris alone._

_He took you from me_

_I’ll come back_

_I will_

_Leave him alone_

_Leave him alone_

_Promise to leave everyone alone_

_I’ll go back with you_

_I’ll come get you_

_No_

_I’ll go out myself, as soon as I can_

_I promise_

_Promise?_

_I swear on my life._

_I swear on whatever you want_

_Please, just don’t come here_

_Give me time_

_Just a few days_

_I won’t tell anyone_

_I won’t call for help_

_Just a few days and I’ll stay with you forever_

You feel sick.

Unable to read Thomas’s reply, you go back to the newest message to find out why Thomas wrote what he wrote. Their conversations continue for days, and Thomas’s replies don’t get any less disturbing. The last messages Michael sent before falling asleep… 

_It didn’t work_

_I’m sorry_

_I’ll sneak out in the morning_

_He’s exhausted, he has to fall asleep eventually_

**_1 New Message_ **

_That’s what you said two days ago._

The knowledge that what you thought was your overbearing nature is all that’s been keeping Michael from doing something _very_ stupid is giving you vertigo. You nearly collapse against the door. There’s no more doubt in your heart. You have to do something, _now_. You can’t even wait until the morning.

You try to wrangle your shaking fingers into typing out a message that makes sense.

_He’s asleep_

_Wait for me outside_

The message has been read. Quietly, you creep into the kitchen. You do have a better weapon this time, though obtaining a license involved much tampering on Kaito’s part. To make it even remotely legal. Thomas, you suspect, might have stolen a gun without worrying much about that but, as everyone took great care to explain, it would be much better for you to cause yourself as little legal trouble as possible. Therefore, you legally own a handgun.

You don't want to kill Thomas.

Maybe you won't have to. But if he attacks you, if he tries to break in… 

You'll cross that bridge when you get to it.

For now, all you have to cross is the threshold. Outside, the snow stands out against the black sky above you. You're already feeling cold. The good news is, Thomas won't be feeling much better. 

And there he is. Scowling at you from across the yard, a thick, but clearly old winter coat draped across his figure.

You're clutching the pistol behind your back. You thought it was small before, but now it just seems tiny. You just have to trust that it'll do the job.

" _You_." hisses Thomas, "Was I talking to you the whole time?"

"Not the whole time. But long enough."

"Where-"

"You won't touch him." you glare, "Nor anyone else. I'll make sure of that."

His expression changes on a dime, from barely controlled anger to unbridled amusement: "Oh? _You_ ? Are you sure? Then why did you run until now? Don't tell me you were scared of me. Did that _thread on the headboard_ trick frighten you, by any chance?"

"I caught it in time."

"Mh, and what if you hadn't? You know, none of this would have happened if you just hadn't run away from me the first time." he shrugs, and his expression sours: "It's bad enough you abandoned me again, but _stealing_ from me?"

Your jaw clenches involuntarily. You wonder if he really does only see Michael as an object by now.

"I didn't steal anything."

He shakes his head in disapproval: "I don't want to fight you, Christopher. We can solve this. Just give her back."

The wrong pronoun is what tips you over the edge. The safety clicks, but Thomas is too far away to hear it and simply continues his spiel: "If you never want to see me again, fine. It wouldn't be the first time you just up and left, now would it? Just give Rose back and I'll be on my way."

 _Rose_ ? Seriously? You're both horrified and disappointed by his choice in names. Though, you suppose, you wouldn't have accepted any name that wasn't _Michael_ , or whatever he might want to be called. 

"Thomas." you finally start, low in pitch and high in volume, the way you do when you're serious, "I don't want to fight you either. Last chance. If you leave now and never bother any of us again, we can end this here."

Thomas laughs and your heart sinks.

" _Leave_ ? Oh, no, no, no, that's your thing. Me, I've been here the entire time. It wasn't easy to sneak in the vents, you know? That security was a pain to bypass. So what, pray tell, makes you think I would _leave_ now?"

Yeah, that's what you thought. You wish he was different, but he's like that and you're not going to change it with just a few words. Not Thomas. His determination and zeal were only virtues as long as you were on the same side. Now, they're like mortal sins.

You have no choice.

You point the gun at him. Finger on the trigger, you aim for his broad chest. Was he always this tall? 

He isn't smiling anymore.

"What?" he deadpans. He's not amused.

You make one last attempt. 

"Leave." you repeat, adjusting your aim a little to the right. Maybe you'll hit something non-lethal.

Thomas, predictably enough, doesn’t leave. Less predictably, he charges directly at you.

All your muscles turn against you in an instant.

You should shoot him.

You should pull the trigger.

But you've never trained, you've never used something like this, and that damned instinct screaming at you that _that is your brother_ is keeping your trigger finger lifted just slightly off where it needs to be. Panic really is a powerful thing. 

On the scale of _fight, flight_ or _freeze_ , it would seem you fall between the latter two.

Thomas aims for your arm, knocking the handgun out of your hand and, while your gaze helplessly follows its trajectory in the air, he takes advantage of that brief moment of distraction to grab you by the back your neck and shove your head directly into his knee.

It hurts like hell. You feel like your skull is bursting apart starting from your forehead. Your vision explodes in a million yellow fireworks and you stagger back, toppling over backwards into the snow beneath.

You're out cold before you can feel the snow on your neck.

When you wake up, you're no longer outside. You're back home, and for a moment you feel as though you've simply woken up from a nightmare. But your head is pulsing with a dull pain radiating from your forehead, you can't move your limbs, and you feel like you might be catching cold. 

It was real.

Oh, God, it was real.

Before you dare to look around, you hang on to the feeble hope that perhaps Thomas was chased away and you were rescued and brought back inside. 

The hope dies quickly when you look down to find all four of your limbs bound to the kitchen table. It is way past the twelve-hour check-in, too, and if no one's here then that means…

"Very smart of you." comments someone behind you. You hear the sound of someone typing. The voice is familiar.

Your heart withers in an instant.

"But, you know…" continues Thomas, "You really should establish a better system than just a button. Like fingerprints. If that had been the case, I would have had to keep you alive and with at least one arm intact. But it's fine. I can still use this."

He finally enters your field of vision. His hair still looks a bit wet from being out in the snow, but he lost the coat and is now in his usual waistcoat. He looks so much taller when you're in this position.

"You do video check-ins too, right?" he tilts his head a little, "That's fine. I'm sure I can get you to say you're okay and they'll buy it, for a little bit at least. Just until I find a new place."

He hasn't gagged you, and yet you find yourself struggling to speak.

"Untie me."

Very intimidating. Surely, that will get him to- oh no, he's laughing at you. Good try.

"Oh, no, no, no." he shakes his head, "See, I'm very cross with you. You've made Rose so sad. Now she won't smile at me anymore and she even tried to attack me with those ugly new arms you put on her. I'll take care of that soon enough."

Before you can answer, you hear a rattling of what sound like chains from somewhere in the house. 

" _Michael_ -" you whisper, feeling your heart drop below the earth.

Thomas smiles almost tenderly.

"I'll be right with you!" he shouts at the door, but when he turns back to you his smile is gone: "See? She's very upset with me. And so terribly lonely, now that you've taken her from her playroom. I couldn't bring all her friends here. She needs a new friend."

You have a terrible feeling you know where this is going. Thomas sets his elbows down on the table to look more closely at you: "You know, you'd look so lovely with some more frills. A lot more. I'll get the materials soon enough. Oh, I have a lot of work to do. I'm afraid you might have caught something, I will have to wait a bit to operate, and make new limbs, and clothes for you… agh, this is gonna be a lot of work. But then…"

He smiles pensively, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

"...I do so love my work."

_Ending 4: Rose's Tea Party_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You did what you could do all on your own.  
> You could've died, and you had it worse.  
> Do you want to restart?
> 
> _Start over._


	49. Chapter 49

You feel your heart sink. You hoped you’d have more time before a confrontation. But there’s no choice now, you either act or you’re in trouble. Obviously, nothing is going to happen as long as everyone sticks together, but you know it’s impossible to keep ten people under constant surveillance. And that’s not even counting everyone outside the tower. 

You sigh.

“We have to do something about this.”

“Yes, but what?” snaps Rio, "We should have done something ages ago. Now we don't know where he is or-"

"We'll think of something." says Durbe, "We should probably talk with the whole group, though.”

You’re inclined to agree. It’s simpler that way. On the other hand, coordinating a discussion with ten people, or even nine if you exclude Haruto, which you’re for some reason not entirely willing to do. Either way, the idea of keeping everyone in one place is very reassuring to you. Even if that means you have to hold a meeting outside an operating room.

Once you get everyone together and relay the contents of the note (which somewhere down the line ends up in someone else’s hands, being passed around the room to whoever can stomach to read it), you begin to share possible plans. One point stands, though, throughout every single suggestion: no one will be left alone. You have your doubts about bringing _everyone_ with you, but you do agree that it would be better to have _someone_ with you. 

You especially hate the idea of having to take Michael with you, but you are reassured by the promise of backup. You come to a compromise.

“I won’t take him anywhere if he says no.”

Everyone seems to be in agreement. Really, you’re working very well, which is as rare for you as peaceful sleep. Or peaceful _anything_ really. You can recognise how hectic your life has been since you were a teenager, you can recognise that it was probably not good for you, and you can decide to keep those issues for another time like you’ve done for years. You remember when it first occurred to you that you could all likely benefit from some psychotherapy. You, your family, your friends. You can’t recall any of them mentioning therapy. When this is over, you think, you should probably revisit that idea. If not for yourself, for the people sitting beside you. 

You are all incredibly messed up, aren’t you?

It’s alright. You’ll have time to work on it. This isn’t the end of you. You’re already so much better than you used to be, in terms of relating to other people, and that will be a good start indeed.

But first, you have to get this done. 

When Michael wakes up, he is initially still loopy from whatever the doctor gave him. It’s almost cute until his no-filter attitude switches from telling everyone that he loves them to accidentally relating every single disturbing thing Thomas did and said, and all it took was a playful pinch on the cheek to unlock that door. He does tend to get a little lost in his memories, doesn’t he? You are endlessly surprised, and terrified, by just how little it takes to trigger his flimsy memory. You wonder how common this actually is for him, and how many times he says anything about it. Yuma tells you that this happened so many times before when they ate together. He adds that he knows how anaesthetics like this one work, though, and that he’s likely to forget everything he said once it wears off. But you won’t, of course.

You decide not to question Yuma’s seemingly endless medical knowledge. 

The anaesthetic begins to wear off completely after another short nap, and he wakes up with a wheeze that would have probably been a groan. He greets you with a nod of his head. You greet him by waving your hand, repeatedly, until he finally remembers that _oh yeah, he has arms now_. 

“Don’t strain yourself.” you remind him after the third time he raises his arms all the way over his head.

 _Exercise_ , he mouths.

You are _acutely_ aware of everybody’s stares as they all wonder the same thing as you: _how_ and _when_ you’re going to break the news to him.

 _Not yet_ , you keep telling yourself, enjoying that very brief peace of mind that he seems to be experiencing. Yes, you know you have to share the plans with him eventually. You’ll get to it, you swear. 

You just can’t seem to find an opening.

Finally, after a pointed stare of _if you don't do it I will_ from both of the twins separately, you interrupt your casual conversation: "Michael, we… there's a problem."

He tilts his head a little. It looks casual enough, but you know better. You've put him on edge. Might as well go through with it.

You take a deep breath. One glance exchanged with Durbe gives you permission to not mention him for the time being.

"We… Thomas left a note." you start, and already his face is losing colour, "I'm not sure you should read it, but I have to tell you, it was a threat."

He nods, as if to say _of course it was_.

“So, we have to confront him immediately. I wish we had more time, but we just…”

He nods his head again. He knows there’s more to what you’re saying and he’s waiting for it as if bracing himself for a punch. In a sense, he _is_. You decide to cut to the chase already: “He uh… wants you back, so…”

Oh, you could’ve phrased that better. A regular person would immediately understand that there’s more to that, too, but when you paused _there_ , on that _so_ , it was like dropping a stone into the pond of his still warped, traumatised mind. It doesn’t matter how much he trusts you, when you avert your eyes like that, you look guilty. It doesn’t matter whether or not he knows that you care about him, when he understands that someone else is at risk, as his priorities shift, he thinks yours do too.

His first, completely instinctive reaction is blind panic. You can see the exact moment he registers the information and his eyes go blank. Before you can clarify anything, he looks down, seemingly calm, and nods. You make the abysmal mistake of assuming that that means he understood what you were saying: “So we… uh, we need to take you outside. Are you fine with that?”

He tries, after another brief nod, and still a bit clumsily, to move his arms: “ _I understand_ .” he signs. You think. That _looks_ like the sign for _I understand_ , at least, but it was a yes either way. The lingering fear in his eyes remains, but that’s understandable, as you can probably assume he’d rather put a permanent barrier between himself and Thomas. What worries you a little more is the overwhelming sadness, mixed with bitter happiness, that you can see just behind it. It just… it doesn’t look right to you.

That’s because it’s not. You need to be a bit more specific about why you need him outside, love. 

The tingling in your spine finally pushes you to ask him: “Are you sure? You can say _no_ . If you say _no_ that’s it, we won’t ask again.”

Michael smiles both tenderly and bitterly: “ _No, it’s fine. I understand_.”

Again, you’re not 100% sure that’s what he’s trying to say, but it makes sense. And yet the feeling won’t go away. There’s something else.

Think. Think about the way you phrased it. You mean to use him as bait. Good, you really should have said that. Think. What else could he possibly have gathered from your poor phrasing?

 _Oh, fuck_.

Ah, there it goes.

You flinch like someone stabbed you in the spine: “Wait, Michael. We’re… you’re just bait. You… understand that, don’t you?”

To your horror, he looks genuinely confused. He furrows his brow as if to say: _really?_

Oh, you found something you did not want to find there. The fact that he basically accepted, in less than ten seconds, the idea that you, his brother, and all the people present, were going to return him to the man who turned him into a human doll; the fact that he almost looked like he expected it; there’s too much to unpack and you weren’t prepared for it. Did he _consider_ that option? How many times? Since when? Your mind is racing, but slow down. Focus on explaining what you meant, for now. There will be time. 

You would like to hold his hand, but you know he wouldn’t feel it. You go for his shoulder instead: “No, I… we’re not going to let him touch you, okay? As soon as we’ve lured him out, you can go back inside, turn around, leave, whatever you want.”

Feeling his shoulder tense, you pull him a little closer, by the nape of his neck, until his head is resting on your shoulder: “He won’t take you again. He won’t hurt anyone else again. I promise. Alright?”

He doesn’t move, but you hear the faintest whisper come from just below your ear: “Alright.”

Outside, it starts to rain.

You do, indeed, still have Thomas’s old contacts. It feels so strange to text him (as everyone else helpfully points out, given how antiquated cellphones like yours are at this point), but it feels even stranger to open the chat and read the last few messages, simple _hello_ s and _when are you coming home_ and _do you want steak for dinner_ s, unassuming little things that you never thought would feel so alien to you. Or fill you with so much vitriol. Stranger still is the feeling of reading and typing with everyone else (yes, that means _everyone_ ) looking over your shoulder.

_Fine._

_You’ve won._

_Where are we meeting?_

Everyone waits with bated breath as Thomas almost immediately reads the message and begins typing. 

“That was fast.” mutters Rio.

Droite helpfully points out that he was probably waiting for it, and it sounds like she’s right because his next message is:

_Finally_

_You were taking so long to answer_

_Answer the question._

_I want to get this over with._

You’re not lying about that. One more evasive answer and you’re going to reconsider your original _no killing_ plan. Thankfully, though, he stops playing around and gives you a time and place. The time, thankfully, is 2 am, when no one will be around, many hours from now. The place is a road as of yet unfinished, somewhere on the edge of town, by the sea. As you recall, it used to be a big project, but it was unfortunately started the exact same year that everything went down in Heartland and has since been abandoned. Why does the place sound familiar?

You hear Yuma snicker behind you. Michael shifts around to smile knowingly at him.

Oh. Right. That’s where you know it from.

You’re not entirely sure why he chose that place, especially when the weather is so unpredictable. It’s terribly exposed. But maybe that was the point. There’s some wisdom in that, actually, given that such an open place will leave no place for reinforcements to hide. It’s a good strategy, but not impossible to get around with the kind of technology you and Kaito can provide.

In the hours that follow, the tower remains nearly silent safe for the occasional crack of thunder. You couldn’t persuade Yuma or the twins, or much less Kaito, to stay behind, but to your relief Droite and Durbe are on shockingly good terms considering the last time they met that you can remember, and at least one of them is a good babysitter. Jury’s very much still out on Durbe. Gauche looks indecisive, but ultimately joins your group, because of course he does. That does create a slight imbalance, and Kaito has to reiterate that he will allow no more than four people inside the machine they’ll use to ambush Thomas, otherwise there would be a structural risk, and he naturally has to be included in those four people. So someone has to stay behind. They draw straws. Rio, to her endless disappointment, draws the short stick and is therefore relegated to tower guard duty. She calms down a bit when Durbe tells her it will be a relief for them to have a strong fighter like her around. You don’t think he’s lying about that, either. She’s been expanding her fighting skills to armed combat, but so has Ryoga, so either of them is a good addition to your group.

Yuma was allowed to come for three reasons. One, he wouldn’t take no for an answer even if he did draw the short straw. Two, as a part-time explorer he is both agile and strong and someone Thomas has never fought against before with anything except cards. Three, he’s only allowed to come with if he’s the one who gets Michael out of the line of fire as soon as possible. He had no complaints about that.

Gauche has both combat experience and abundant physical strength compared to the rest of you, and Kaito is Kaito. And also armed. 

You also brought a knife with you, because it was the only thing you could think of. They almost gave you a taser, but reasoned the rain would make it too dangerous to carry something like that, much less activate it. Kaito seemed a bit skeptical of how much tasers in the rain could really hurt, but he doesn’t want to talk about it and you don’t want to know the details. You’re almost certain _Tron_ , of all people, mentioned something about that once, and God knows you don’t want to go down _that_ particular path.

All that being said, really, you might be at once the most useful and useless member of the group. But don’t go there. You won’t come back. 

The ambush group is hiding in two pods under the road, one behind you, one far ahead of you, split in pairs. Yuma, to Ryoga’s simultaneous delight and annoyance, has been paired up with him; Kaito and Gauche, you assume, are finally catching up after you showed up and ruined the courtesy visit. And you and Michael are just... here, with one umbrella and a lot of unspoken questions. And words in general. You never thought just standing next to your brother in the rain could be so awkward, but hey, hasn't your life been one big, horrible surprise lately?

Obviously, Michael can't really hold a conversation unless you're looking at him, and your gaze won't stop wandering away to either side of you to spot Thomas before he comes too uncomfortably close to you. You both need time to prepare for this.

Right now, it's 1:52 am, it's really bloody cold, it's raining buckets, and there's no trace of Thomas as far as the eye can see. Which is, admittedly, not very far, because the rain and the sort of mist that forms with every falling drop _is_ significantly reducing your field of vision. The good news is, if you can't see him, he probably can't see you. You stand beside Michael, facing the opposite direction as you, so you can warn each other as soon as he's been spotted. Michael, since verbal communication is obviously impossible in this case, is holding your hand, having agreed to give it a tug if he sees something.

He looks less nervous than you feel, which is slightly worrying. Does he simply trust you or is he just completely resigned? You don’t want to think about it

You know he won’t feel it, but you squeeze his hand a little tighter regardless.

The familiar feeling of vertigo hits you only moments before you finally see a figure advancing slowly in the pouring rain. 

“He’s here.” you murmur, just loud enough for Michael to hear. Now he’s the one squeezing your hand tighter. You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s a little _too_ tight. You don’t mind. It’s keeping you rooted to the floor, at least, instead of spiralling down into one of your anxiety storms. “Remember the plan?” you ask.

Michael nods quietly and lays his head down to feign sleep.

You have an _agonisingly_ long time to think, though, while Thomas takes his sweet time walking to you. He’s probably being very careful about his surroundings, including the very slippery, unreasonably smooth asphalt beneath you. He might be regretting choosing this particular location. You have a slight suspicion that he chose it purely for spite. To remind you one of many times you failed as a brother.

You decide to save that for later.

The closer he gets, though, the more the impulse to grab Michael and run grows and creeps up the walls of your ribcage like poison ivy; itchy and uncomfortable and slowly rotting away inside of you. You hope this all goes well, you hope no one gets hurt, but you know there’s only two ways you can be absolutely sure.

One is making sure Thomas is physically incapable of doing any more harm.

The other is making sure he doesn’t want to.

You can fight him, of course, as was planned. Take him into custody, injure him, kill him, however that fight goes. But there’s another thing you’ve begun to consider, somewhere, in some remote corner of your mind, locked away where no one can find it in time to stop you.

You notice Thomas approaching, much closer than he was before, maybe thirty feet away from you, and decide you’d feel safer holding onto Michael yourself for now. You lift him from the wheelchair, slinging one of his arms over your shoulder. Moments later, you feel his hand squeezing the back of your jacket. Not the _I’m scared_ type of grip, though; the _you can do this_ type of grip. It feels good to have his silent support. 

Thomas is, unfortunately, not quite as silent: “You showed up!” he exclaims, opening his arms as wide as the grin on his face, “And you showed up _early_!”

He holds an umbrella with an uncomfortably sharp tip that you’re fairly sure he could stab you in the neck with, and he holds it casually, but not casually enough to believe he _wouldn’t_ do exactly that if he had to.

You feel a shiver going up your spine.

“Thomas.”

“In the flesh.” he smiles, “Good to see you remember me. I mean, you’d think you would remember, but honestly? With you, I never know.”

Behind Thomas, you spot two figures silently climbing onto the stretch of road and you know you have to keep talking. You grit your teeth. 

“Say what you will. I don’t have to listen to anything you say.”

“Starting from today, you never have to listen to me again.” he shrugs, “Give me my Rose and we’ll be on our merry way, yes?”

You furrow your brow: “ _Rose_?”

That extraordinarily creative name, for some reason, sets you off. Maybe it’s just because it’s the _wrong_ name. Maybe it’s just because he decided he could just erase Michael Arclight and replace him with a doll that had nothing of him but his face.

Thomas doesn’t catch on: “Yes, Rose. Did she not tell you her name? I’m not surprised. With how you took her away so abruptly, she must’ve been too frightened.”

The continuous use of wrong names and pronouns is grating on your already frayed nerves.

You grit your teeth: “Perhaps. Or maybe _Rose_ simply couldn’t tell me. That is what usually happens when you rob people of all means to communicate. Have you thought about that?”

No, don't get carried away.

They're behind him now. You can do this. Soon Ryoga and Yuma will climb up behind you and then it'll be a fairer fight.

"I don't know what you mean." says Thomas, dismissively, "Anyway, I'm freezing. Give her here and we'll be on our way."

Instead of stepping forward, though, you take a step back. Thomas's half smile vanishes in an instant as he once again tries to close the distance between you: "Hey. What are you doing? Running away again?"

You have backup now. You have a fighting chance. Now would be the right time to make your choice.

  * Sacrifice yourself. (chapter 50)
  * Fight him. (chapter 51)




	50. Chapter 50

You've made your choice now. 

"I'm not running away." you whisper, "I'm never running away again."

"You stepped back!" Thomas cackles, "Like a coward."

His smile falls as he watches Yuma and Ryoga emerge from under the highway. You take another step back: "I'm not running away." you repeat.

As gently as you can, you pass Michael to Yuma. The only good thing about the plastic legs is that they make him easier to carry. And slightly lighter. Michael, clearly confused, hooks his arms around Yuma's neck and gives you an interrogative look.

_ This wasn't the plan _ , say his eyes,  _ what are you doing? _

You smile at him as sincerely as you can. For some reason, that only seems to freak him out more. Maybe he saw through you. Maybe he thought of another horribly stupid plan. It doesn't matter.

This is the best you can do, isn't it? The most you can give for them. Behind Thomas, who by now has noticed their presence, Kaito and Gauche look just as confused as the three boys beside you. These  _ are _ boys, aren't they? Still teenagers. Younger than you were when you were fighting for revenge. And Michael, who looks so tiny to you no matter how much he grows up, is the oldest of them. That's a strange thought.

What's stranger is the sense of peace that has completely enveloped you. It's like your mind has taken pity on you and shut down your fear, and all that's left without your fear is… nothing.

You step back from the trio and finally approach Thomas: "I have a proposal, if you'll listen."

" _ What _ ?"

"A deal."

"A  _ deal _ ?" Thomas repeats, but his eyes keep darting back to Yuma, who has wisely taken a few steps back. You move a little just to be in his direct line of sight. You want to keep the focus off those kids for as long as possible.

"Yes. A deal."

"And what would that be?" he asks, and he sounds almost bored. Like he already knows he's going to refuse. You really hope he doesn't.

You take a deep breath.

Are you sure? Well, yes, of course. No going back now. 

"Take me instead," 

Their reaction comes like a shockwave. Thomas, closest to you, is the first to react, stepping back almost imperceptibly. He did  _ not _ expect that. Yuma, on the other hand, steps  _ forward _ , and Michael, still in his arms, jolts towards you, nearly falling to the ground in the process. You don't look back at him. 

You're almost certain you hear Ryoga murmur: "What…?" 

Gauche turns towards Kaito, whose expression has turned tight in an instant.

"Chris..." hisses Kaito.

You shake your head at him, gently. Whatever he says isn't going to move you. You gather your wits once more and walk towards Thomas. 

"I’m the one you should be angry at."

You pause, trying to read Thomas’ expression. 

"After all, I abandoned you."

You can see the calculations fly across Thomas’s expression. In the rain, there’s an added air of misery about him. You wonder when exactly he broke. You wonder how much you helped that outcome. You wonder if it happened right in front of you, and you didn't even notice.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Hesitantly, you take another step and lower your voice to little more than a whisper, just enough to be heard over the rain. 

"Look at me. Am I not beautiful? You could do a lot more with me than Michael, right?" you say, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

You struggle to keep looking Thomas in the eyes, when you can hear Michael struggling to run for you on legs that won't carry him. You can imagine he's trying to say something, but you wouldn't know.

"Chris,  _ don’t _ !" shouts Kaito, making a start towards you.

He’s roughly held back by Gauche, who looks at you with a grim expression on his face. He understands. Eventually, they all will. You thank your common sense for handing Michael to Yuma, who will be stuck in an endless spiral of  _ I can't let this happen  _ and  _ I can't bring Michael over there _ . He will blame himself either way, but there's not much you can do about it.

Ryoga just looks frozen in shock. He hasn't said a word since the beginning. It's now or never.

In the rain, you offer your slender and pale hand towards Thomas. 

"Leave Michael and take me," you say, in that gentle, nearly parental tone you used to have so long ago, "Let’s go back and spend time together like when we were younger."

Thomas contemplates your hand, wondering whether he should trust it or not. He looks almost vulnerable like this. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was just lost.

"Please," you whisper, "I won’t ever leave you again."

Thomas stirs. 

"How do I know you aren’t lying?" he hisses, casting a doubtful glance at your hand. His eyes say everything that needs to be said.

"Please, just trust me."

You know that’s a tall order, especially when Thomas is casting dubious glances at you and then Michael, who still struggles to reach you. You hope he never does. The rain is beginning to soak through your clothes, but it barely fazes you.

"You could make me beautiful," you say after a long drawn pause, "Even better than Michael. Couldn't you?"

It pains you to the core to say this, but at this point, you would do whatever it took to keep Thomas from hurting anyone else.

The final nail in your coffin is praise, and the hammer is in your hand. 

"You make such beautiful creations, Thomas." you murmur, "You truly are a prodigy."

Light slowly fills Thomas’s eyes and you can see the ideas flooding his twisted, artistic mind. It takes all of your self control to not bite your lip in fear. 

Dear God, his face. You've seen it before, back when he used to attack his fans for laughs, back when he had to make himself enjoy what he was doing just to cope. Disturbingly, though, the idea crosses your mind that perhaps it wasn't an act. You've seen that face before, but being on the receiving end of it is something else.

Without warning, he grabs your hand in a firm, vice-like grip. You look into his eyes and see a mixture of anger and excitement filling them. 

"On one condition," you utter, before your tongue can freeze with panic.

"What?" he snaps. 

It takes you a second to collect yourself after that sudden move.

"Promise me you’ll never take anyone else. You are to remain with me and me alone."

You can see the rest of your miserable life flashing by your eyes as Thomas’ eyes narrow.

"Deal," he says.

The moment you shake hands is the moment Michael finally breaks free of Yuma's grip and crashes to the ground.

You try to ignore it.

But, when you hear scraping, you can’t help but turn around. You look at him for what will probably be the last time, only to find him crawling towards you as fast as his arms will allow. In the rain, the metal joints of his arms creak.

You move away just before he's able to grab you by the ankle. He pulls himself up as much as he can to look you in the eyes, and his tears mix with raindrops on his cheeks.

It's silent, but you can see exactly what he's screaming.

Mostly  _ don't _ .

_ Please _ .

Then, to Thomas:  _ I'll go back with you _ ,  _ take me back _ , and such.

He pleads with you and with him, with all the voice he can muster, but the deal is done. You force yourself to smile at him.

No one else tries to stop you. 

When the sky finally clears, you don't even know it. Your eyes are closed.

In the next room, Thomas pricks his finger while attaching a string of lace to the edge of large blue sleeves.

It's his hiss of pain that wakes you.

You wish it hadn't.

_ Ending 5: The Queen _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say.  
> I'm sorry.  
> That was brave of you, love.
> 
> _  
> Go to the Ending 5 Epilogue.  
> _


	51. Chapter 51

You grit your teeth.

"Not running away." you say, "But neither will you."

Before he can process what you just said, Gauche has a right hook aimed directly at his temple. Thomas barely has time to dodge. He growls like a lion: "An ambush!! Really, Chris?"

"Yes, really!" roars Gauche, feigning a punch to Thomas's jaw only to pull back and hit him square in the stomach with the other hand. Thomas staggers back but, before, Gauche can get another punch in, he drops to the floor and kicks his legs out from underneath him

Gauche lands hard on his back, but he looks fine. Thomas takes the opportunity to put some distance between himself and all of you. His face is tight with barely controlled anger. For a moment, there, you saw something else behind it, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Now would be the time. You hand Michael off to Yuma and grasp the handle of your knife tight, until you’re sure it’s going to leave marks on the skin of your hand. 

You make a run for Thomas while his eyes are still on Michael. He sees you coming anyway, but he doesn’t dodge this time. He drops to one knee just as you reach him and lifts you over his shoulder, taking advantage of your momentum to throw you past him. He fails to account for the knife. You aim for his shoulder, but you’re a moment too late, already being flipped, and you only manage to nick the side of his arm.

The moment you land, too close to the edge for comfort, is a shockwave, starting from your back and rattling your ribs. Your hair, caught between the ground and your back, tugs your neck back painfully. 

By some miracle, you managed to hold on to the knife. Not for long. Roaring in anger, Thomas stomps on your right wrist with enough force to rip a strangled cry from you.

He kicks the knife away: “You  _ cut _ me!” he hisses.

You have just enough time to scowl at his almost entitled, indignant attitude before he raises his foot to kick you again. Luckily, he failed to notice Ryoga coming up behind him. As a result,  _ he _ ’s the one who ends up on the receiving end of a roundhouse kick to the temple, though he notices just in time for the kick to land on the side of his neck instead. You do not envy him. Ryoga’s shoes have studs. That will leave a mark.

It gives you just enough time to stand.

Until Thomas recovers, that is, at which point he charges directly at you. You don’t have time to dodge. All you can do is grab his arm and swing him to the side. 

You forgot how close you were to the edge.

Thomas doesn’t let go of your arm until he’s way past the edge; as he falls off, he very nearly drags you down with you. You somehow manage to land in a manner that jostles your ribs, but keeps you on the ground. Thomas falls.

It’s more out of instinct than anything that you reach out for him. You assume it’s the same for him when he reaches up to grab your wrist with his free hand. His arm is shaking a bit. You might’ve cut a little deeper than you thought. The blood is flowing back over his shoulder, but the red stain on his jacket is washed pink by the rain. You know if you let go of him he wouldn’t be able to hold on to you for long.

No one would know.

  * Drop him. (chapter 52)
  * Save him. (chapter 53)



_ This is the final decision of this path. _


	52. Chapter 52

You don’t know if it’s impulse or reason that compels you to let your hand go slack. Thomas takes a few seconds to realise it. You know it’s sunk in when you feel his grip tighten painfully on your wrist. His nails dig into your arm through your sleeve.

You try to look away. You really do.

But his painful, panicked gasps as he tries to claw his way up your arm are setting off every single protective nerve in your body.

 _Look away_ , you tell yourself. You can’t. 

Look at yourself. Bold enough to kill but not to acknowledge it. Typical of a coward. 

You know Kaito is looking over your shoulder. You know he’s not going to stop you. 

When Thomas’s grip finally fails him, you finally look into his eyes. You wish you hadn’t. In a single instant, you catch every single thing behind his eyes and, you realise moments later, he looks like a child.

Not just a child, but the same child you used to play with and scold and watch while your father was away. You didn’t watch him this time, now did you? You’re watching him now, as he falls out of your reach.

A fraction of a second before he hits the water, Kaito pulls you back from the edge. You’re silently grateful for it. 

No one says a word on the way back.

No one can.

You decide not to talk about it when you’ve returned. No one blames you. No one insists to get the story out of you. You would be moved if only you could feel anything at all.

You and Michael agree, without much thought, to move somewhere else. Neither of you can ever stand to look at a doll again, but you left too many things back home to simply never go there again.

You get help from everyone moving everything in a much smaller, much safer house. You leave everything else as it was. It becomes nothing more than a museum of your father and brother, and you are its miserable owner.

It’s peaceful after that, but you just can’t seem to settle into the new routine. You can’t shake the feeling that you left something behind. Something important. No matter what you do, whenever you enter your house, you feel that something is missing. But Michael doesn’t mention anything you might’ve forgotten, so you assume it wasn’t anything too important.

Or so you think. And yet, the feeling just won’t leave you alone or even ease up. It gets worse and worse every day, until you finally crack.

As soon as Michael is out of the house, you return to the manor.

Just one last time, just to check that you truly haven’t forgotten anything.

You might have to enter Thomas’s room. You haven’t gone there yet. 

The manor looks like a carcass to you when you enter. All the signs of your escape are still there. The dishes Thomas was washing are gathering dust by the sink. Dust has settled everywhere, in fact, and as you clutch the key so tight that its design is impressed into your skin. The air feels heavy and cold.

You can do this. 

It takes you nearly two minutes to climb the stairs. You just keep freezing. There’s an inexplicable cold in your bones, and you tremble and stop and breathe until you can move again. Every three steps, you feel faint. 

When you do reach the top of the stairs, it’s another three minutes to reach Thomas’s room. Once you’ve reached it, it’s one more minute to open the door, which someone took care to close before you could ever reach the room when you first returned. Your breath stops. Yes, the room is mostly as you left it. All the dolls stare silently at you with their painted smiles. Why does it feel like you’re not welcome here?

The bonnet that used to be on Michael’s head is still there, and you don’t want to look at it.

There is something, though, that feels different. _Wrong_ , somehow. You scan the room with almost scientific curiosity; you know, you _know_ something is different, you know something changed since last time, and you know the movers haven’t gone in there. It takes you almost ten minutes to notice, but when you do, your stomach starts to sink.

That doll in red used to be on the other side of the room. The one sitting at the table last time was a blonde doll dressed in black and blue. And the teacups were different. And, unlike the rest of the house, there is no dust in this room.

When it hits you, you stagger back and sprint as far away from the house as you can. 

You don’t turn around but, out the corner of your vision, you could swear you saw the gleam of someone’s eyes in the darkness. The moment you’ve put enough distance between yourself and the manor, you call the police. Next, you call Michael back home and don’t let him go.

The police find nothing.

You know better.

_Ending 6: The Neverending Nightmare_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel very sorry for you.  
> On one hand, you have my sincerest condolences.  
> On the other, you really should have checked.  
> What, do you want to start over?
> 
> _  
> Start over.  
> _


	53. Chapter 53

You can’t. 

Your instinct told you to save him, but now your reason is telling you the same thing. Your heart cries out to you:  _ help him, save him, you will never forgive yourself if you let him go now, not after you’ve come this far, save him _ . There is a part of you that maliciously whispers in your ear to  _ drop him _ , but it’s nothing more than a thought. An intrusive, undesired idea. It would be so much easier to just drop him, but you’ve made a silent promise to yourself to stop taking the easy way out. Stop going with the flow, letting fate drag you around like a raging river.

Thomas’s nails dig into your wrist as his panic sets in. You crane your head back to Kaito, standing over you, unsure: “Hold my ankles.” you say, and he complies without an answer.

Your other wrist aches, but you reach down all the same, holding Thomas’s arms in a safe and stable grip. You don’t know what to do. Time freezes when you look into his eyes and find an endless sea of confusion. He doesn’t look like a stranger anymore. He looks like your brother, and he looks completely lost. And, no matter how much that little part of you screams to the high heavens that he’s unforgivable, irredeemable, gone forever, still, there’s only one wish in your heart.

You want to save him.

He doesn't try to attack you when you finally pull him up onto the road. He doesn't try to do anything except catch his breath and come to terms with the fact that you did not murder him. Unfortunately, you can't risk it. Before he can do anything, Kaito stabs a syringe into his neck and he's out cold in a matter of seconds. But not before looking up at you with a sea of pure confusion in his eyes.

He falls with his head on your shoulder, and you don't care to dodge. You decide to carry him yourself. One arm around his back, the other under his knees, you lift him off the asphalt and finally turn to the rest of the group.

"I'm turning him in." you declare, tiredly. Everyone’s eyes immediately turn to Michael, who has by now been placed back on the wheelchair. He nods.

As you pass him, though, he grabs the side of your coat to stop you. 

" _ Let's talk later _ ." he signs.

Thomas is turned in to a maximum security psychiatric ward on the outskirts of the city. You're told that no visits whatsoever will be allowed until he's been given a thorough examination, and it sounds fair enough to you. You know, you just  _ know _ , that the reporters and his fans will be on your neck in a matter of hours, though, so you find the time to sit down in front of Michael to have that conversation.

"What did you want to say?" 

You decide to break the ice yourself. Michael smiles sort of bitterly.

" _ I have weird feelings about this _ ." he signs, " _ Not forget, not forgive, but I don’t want him to die. Is that really okay? Do I have the right to not be angry, or to be angry and not vengeful? _ "

Your eyes soften: "Of course."

" _ Is it okay that I don't want to see him? _ "

"It would be okay even if you decided to never see him again." you sigh, shifting a little closer to him: "Michael, when they allow visits again, if you tell me you want to see him, I'll take you there. If you say you don't want to see him, nothing will persuade me to take you anywhere near him. And about being angry without revenge… look, you and I both know how pointless revenge is. Don't feel bad because you don't feel vengeful. Don't  _ ever _ let anyone persuade you to feel bad for that again. What you have, that kind of calm, it's rare and it's good. Don't waste it because someone told you you should feel bad."

Michael listens quietly. He nods, very slowly, and smiles at you: " _ Thank you _ .  _ Don't feel bad either _ ."

"Pardon?"

" _ You made your choice _ ." he signs, " _ And if you don't regret it don't let anyone say you should regret it. _ "

You blink.

A light smile blooms on your lips: "I don't. I won't."

It takes a week for the paparazzi to calm down and two weeks before you're allowed to see Thomas again. With  _ many _ security measures, naturally. You ask Michael if he wants to come and he declines, somewhat hesitantly, though he calms down when he finds you to be supportive.

The psych ward is a lovely looking place, strangely enough, with yellow walls and a very lush garden. The bars on the windows of the higher floors, though, are a little concerning to you. You suppose there are many stories behind that. You wonder if Thomas is behind one of those windows.

The nurse is very kind and welcoming to you as she accompanies you to the lift and to the fifth floor. Which is actually the fourth floor, but whoever labeled them is apparently superstitious. The nurse explains that so are some of the patients and that it greatly relieves their anxiety to know there is no fourth floor.

Before she lets you into the room, she warns you that Thomas has not been restrained in any way (it makes him more aggressive), but that he  _ will _ be monitored by two nurses, plus herself, all armed with sedatives. You feel safe enough, but you make a point to call them in advance and get those measures reinforced should Michael one day decide to visit. She also warns you that he is still rather emotionally unstable, but not with anger. You ask her what she means. She smiles sadly and you understand.

When she finally lets you in, Thomas is sitting in a chair, one nurse on either side of him, and it's… a strange sight, to be sure. He looks so small to you, in part because the baggy trousers and the short sleeves of his shirt show off his more emaciated form, in part because the nurses tower over him. You can tell he hasn't been eating much, and you don't think the hospital is to blame. When the door clicks open and his eyes immediately snap up at you, you see no trace of anger. 

"Chris." he rasps out. You don't have the energy to get mad at the nickname. Not when he looks more like a child than he has in many years.

You sit across from him, at the appropriate distance. Any attempts to start a conversation on your part fail before the words can reach your tongue. You did not think this through, did you?

Thankfully, you don't need to start, because Thomas goes off as soon as you're seated. It's an incoherent, panicked stream of consciousness and you can’t pick out more than a few words at a time, but most of those words are… apologies. It's a little late for that, you think.

What disturbs you, though, is how he seems to have snapped out of something you thought he'd snapped into. Like he was so close, the entire time, to regretting everything, like maybe he would have stopped himself before he ever did anything if you'd just caught him in time. 

If you'd just talked to him.

But no, don't go there. Don't blame yourself for that. None of you saw it coming. Not even Thomas saw it coming. It came and crashed into him and dragged him along the ground like Hector dragged behind Achilles' chariot. Now it's your turn to go and beg for his remains.

You are honest with him.

When he asks why you're the only one here you tell him: "I'll be honest, Thomas. You're not getting out of here anytime soon, no one has forgotten or forgiven you, and I don't know if Michael will ever agree to visit you until one of us is on our deathbed. But you're alive, and you see what you've done. Which means you're not too far gone yet."

He remains silent. 

You press on: "It will be a long road, if you're willing to put the work in. But it will be an endless road if you're not."

It's all the advice you feel you can give him. You leave the room soon after, but not before he obtains permission from his assigned psychiatrist to write a letter for Michael. When you leave the room, he tells you that he's going to review the letter himself before it's sent, to verify, along with Michael's psychiatrist, that it's fine for him to read. You don't know, at this point, what exactly would be fine for him to read, but then, you're not a psychiatrist, are you?

You know, realistically, it will be years before anything is even remotely close to being repaired.

When you and Michael receive a card from your father, addressed to Thomas, declaring he hopes to be home soon, you exchange a single look and you decide right away.

You are going to have a nice long chat with him.

_ Ending 7: Priam and Hector _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you've done it.  
> I don't know what to say, you've done it, you crazy little bugger.  
> I'll be honest with you, I didn't think you could do it.  
> You've proved me wrong.
> 
> There's no need to start over. This story has only just begun.  
> I wish you well.


	54. Ending 1 Epilogue

The sweltering desert heat beats on his back. Despite his long, white robes, concealing everything but his face, he can’t help but feel exposed. The sweat gathers at his brow and he hesitantly wipes it away, afraid of falling off on the camel. Despite the slight wind, he’d rather it subsided. It was a clawing, dry sort of wind, the kind that blew the sand around, grazing one’s skin. 

He knows that even in this foreign country, he was an unwelcome sight. With his pale skin and blue eyes, he received various stares from passersby. He’s certain that they’re saying things about him and makes a mental note to learn the local language and customs as soon as possible.  _ Blend in and disappear,  _ he thought as he made his way through the city.  _ Blend in and disappear.  _ It was all he could do. 

Digging into his satchels, he flipped open his passport and took in a deep breath. His face seemed haunted, in the photograph. The name was different. The face was the same. He wondered if Michael had felt the same. 


	55. Ending 5 Epilogue

The curtains pull back and you blearily open your eyes. In the corner of your eye, you can see your reflection in the mirror. Even underneath all of the powder, you can see the dark circles around your eyes. If this was the price of ensuring Michael’s safety, then so be it. You never were a good brother. This is the least you can do. 

"Good morning my queen," calls Thomas softly. 

You force a smile, your painted lips uncomfortably sticking together. The pain in your throat has lessened as the days have gone by, but you still miss the sound of your own voice. 

Gently, Thomas picks you up from your plush armchair and readjusts your skirts.

”I think we should spend some time today in the garden, don’t you think?"

You nod because Thomas would never take no for an answer from his dolls. You’re answered by a smile and then a hand running through the ringlets at the nape of your neck. The rest of your hair has been gathered into a tower of curls at the top of your head, decorated with whatever caught Thomas’ fancy that day. Last night, it was a mixture of pearls and feathers. 

"Let’s get you some breakfast and then we can talk about your wardrobe for today," says Thomas as he seats you at the table. 

Unlike Michael, your porcelain limbs have no joints and so your legs stick straight out when you’re seated. 

"How does a mantua sound?" asks Thomas, expecting no answer and receiving none.

The dress styles have all blurred in your head. As far as you know, whatever style Thomas chose for you, he’d need to take you out the doors on your side. Honestly, everything, from the days to the faces in your mind are beginning to blur. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if one day you woke up and forgot your own name.

  
  
  



End file.
